#and then he gets asked 1 question and crumbles and gets so... small

[leapinarmadillo]

i have that whole 1983 ebony interview locked and loaded just waiting to be posted. but am EYE ready.... i feel crazy about that interview. watching him fall apart less than a minute in...

[solelifauna]

Yandere Batfam & Neglected Reader Prt.1

When your late mother had a one-night stand with Gotham's richest man, you find yourself at odds and cast aside by your father and his wayward family. Yet, it's only when you find peace that it all comes crumbling down.

TW: Neglect, injury, violence, death

(Y'all, it gets worse in the next post)

To be adopted by Bruce Wayne was akin to a golden ticket; rare but life-changing. You had been one of those (un)lucky souls who just happened to catch the infamous Bruce Wayne's attention, but not how you’d typically expect. You see, you weren't just some random kid, no, you were the byproduct of a one-night stand between your mother and Brucie Wayne. Of course, you obviously didn't know, and your mother was more than content in keeping who your father was a secret. So for the first 11 years of your life, you lived in ignorance of who your father was. Not that it really bothered you; your mother’s love was more than enough, and as long as you had her you knew you’d be fine. 

Then of course, tragedy struck. Your mother was caught in the crossfire between two rival gangs, a stray bullet lodging itself in the side of her head. You don't know how long you spent crying, cradling her dead body, willing her to come back to life. It wasn’t until police and paramedics had to pull you off your mother, that you realized the gravity of your situation. Without your mother and no father, you’d no doubt be sent into one of Gotham City's many orphanages left to be trafficked and killed. Running away seemed like the best option until a positive paternal DNA match came in for one Bruce Wayne. To say you were dumbstruck is an understatement. Bruce Wayne was your father? The man known for adopting children and loving them as his own was your father? You were both relieved and delighted. You didn't know Bruce Wayne personally, but just seeing the way he treated his other children gave you hope, hope that you could heal with this man and finally know your father.

So when child services dropped you at the manor, a small suitcase in tow and a shy, nervous smile on your face only to be met with poorly hidden annoyance and contempt; to say you were heartbroken would be a disservice to yourself. It was easy to discern that your presence was not welcome and considered a hindrance. Bruce spoke to you disconnectedly, offering a quick apology on the loss of your mother before handing you off to the family butler, Alfred. At least Alfred had the decency to apologize on your father’s behalf, taking his time to talk to you and show you around the manor. You liked Alfred, he seemed kind. It wasn't long until you both ran into one of your other siblings, the eldest brother, Richard or Dick Grayson. He seemed the kindest out of the bunch on tv, so you were hopeful he'd have a different reaction compared to your father. 

Disappointment was your friend once more when Dick gave you a strained smile and conversed with you with fake interest. He left as soon as the opportunity arose. Your other siblings were no different; Jason was rarely ever at the manor and when he was, he certainly didn't bother even acknowledging you (not that you minded, he was scary when he was mad). Tim couldn't care less about your presence, finding annoyance when you’d go up to him and try to converse.

Cass or Cassandra talked to you here and there, never unkind, but you knew you were just an afterthought for her; Stephanie on the other hand initially interacted with you, asking you questions and occasionally sitting and talking to you. It was soon that you realized she was just bored and you were the newest “thing” in the manor. Her interest wore off a week later, her interactions with you now short and dry.

The family as a whole just seemed to disregard you and often stilted their conversation around you. You’d notice the dining room would be filled with laughter and loud talking until you'd walk in; silence would overtake the once lively place as everyone switched to hushed conversations. It’s as if everyone but you knew something you didn't, a big inside secret that bonded everyone together. It wasn’t until you accidentally discovered that Bruce Wayne was Batman and that the rest of your siblings had vigilante alter egos that everything made sense. This had to be why everyone left you out! It was because they had a secret identity to protect and you obviously couldn't know!

You thought that once they knew that you were aware of their nightly activities, things would change for the better, that you’d be included and accepted. If anything, your admission was the worst possible thing you could have done. At least before, some of them had pretended to interact or say something to you. But now that you knew their big secret, they no longer had a reason to maintain their forced fronts and pretend to care (even if it was barely caring). They had bigger, better, more important things to worry about than some random girl who popped up and wasn't even a vigilante. 

But ever the idiot, you still tried. You still craved their love and affection, going out of your way to take gymnastics to impress Dick or take coding classes to try and engage with Tim. You even tried talking to Jason about books, something Alfred had mentioned was dear to Jason. You tried sign language with Cass but she was never around long enough for it to matter. None of your attempts were successful. You didn't even bother trying with Bruce, you knew that the man wanted nothing to do with you. 

The straw that broke the camel's back for you was when your half-brother, Damian Wayne was introduced to the manor. You thought that he'd be met with the same coldness as you, and that you’d finally have someone who was in the same boat as you, someone who'd understand. Boy were you wrong. Damian was met with such a warmth it made your skin itch and your eyes teary. You wanted to throw up, this isn't fair, he doesn't even try and he gets their love and attention, yet here you were begging for scraps. Regardless, you thought that at least you could try again with Damian, he was technically blood-related to you after all. Yet when he pulled a knife on you and almost cut your throat, instead leaving a cut on your cheek down to your jaw, you could only stare at him in shock. 

You expected outrage and at least some sort of punishment for Damian, considering he had attacked you unprovoked and that you had no prior martial arts training, you were just a civilian. Dick only pulled you aside after Alfred had patched you up, you’ll never forget the words he said to you.

“(Y/n), what Damian did was a mistake. He’s had a rough childhood with some very bad people and it's not his fault he reacted this way. I know you're hurting, and I promise that this will be the first and last time this ever happens. Please, forgive him.” Dick said softly and mourningly.

You just let out a quiet “okay” not even focusing on Dick’s words, no, your main point of focus was the large, warm hand tenderly cradling your injured cheek. You didn't even realize how touch starved you really were, practically melting into his palm. You almost verbally protested when he retracted his hand as soon as you said “okay”. He was leaving.

“Thanks (Y/n), we really appreciate it. He's a good kid, I promise, he just needs some love and attention is all. I’ll come around to check on you soon, okay?” He said, moving away from you, obviously distracted.

You just “hmmed” in response. You knew he was lying, he would never come see you after this, and you were partly right. He came around the manor all the time now, but never for you, only for your attacker. Damian never did apologize for attacking you by the way. He just moved on, most likely realizing that you weren't a threat and were not worth his energy. 

Your cheek would still forever be scared though, not that anyone cared.

That's okay though, you honestly didn't want to talk to him anyway. The entire “Damian” incident was forgotten about quickly as the family bonded and had movie nights, patrols, and hangouts that you were not invited to. Well technically you were, but you realized that your presence just ruined the overall mood so you just decided that it was better if you just stayed away. It's fine, you did NOT need them. You had other people in your corner that actually cared so you were fine (not really).

Thankfully, you had convinced Bruce (not that he really cared) to let you stay at your old school and not transfer to Gotham Prep. So you got to keep your friends, the only people who understood your plight at the manor, the only people who cared; it was after this that you decided to stop caring as well. You weren't chosen by Bruce Wayne, you were forced upon him. Wayne Manor was not your home, just a stop along the way.

So, you made your peace.

Then, of course things changed, and now the bat family was starting to turn their interests on you. 

Catching attention in Gotham was never a good thing.

[bruhstories]

Bet IV

p.1 here & p.2 here & p.3 here

mandatory mdni because things will start to get heated up in the following chapters.

summary: you're starting to feel things for the man who hired you to take care of his cat. but he's only being nice. that's it and nothing more. pairing: hwang in-ho/the front man x civilian!reader warnings & content: age gap, afab!reader, slightly detailed descriptions of reader’s background for plot purposes, red text for in-ho, purple for reader, pre 33rd squid game, canon divergent, domestic violence (reader gets slapped by her uncle), veeeery slow burn, reader's dad is dead w/c: 2.1k

a/n: if you would like to be tagged for the next part, please check this post! thank you for reading! please remember that if you asked to be tagged but i can't find your age on your blog, you will NOT be tagged. there will be smut and people dying lol.

"Where were you last night?"

You sighed at your uncle's question, sick and tired of explaining the same thing over and over again. He woke up earlier than he should have, especially for a man who worked night shifts at a warehouse. He did it on purpose, just to have more reasons to pick on you, and you knew that all too well. You lived through that hell for the past ten years.

"I told you, I was cat sitting." 

"Cat sitting." He repeated with derision in his voice. "You need to get a real job."

"I have two real jobs." You reminded him, and it took all your willpower not to raise your voice at him.

"Where's the money, then? Huh?" Your uncle grabbed you by the wrist, twisting it backwards.

"I'm getting paid today!"

"How much?" 

"660,326!" You cried out as his fingernails dug deeper into your skin.

"I better see that money on my nightstand by tomorrow morning." He let go of your wrist. "Keep the change."

How generous, you thought, rubbing the crescent-shaped dents in your skin. At least he didn't hit you, but your small victory crumbled when he turned on his heels, smacking you with the plastic fly swatter in his hand. Once. Twice. Thrice. 

You didn't cry, not in front of him. Never in front of him. 

But when you stepped through the doors of Mr. Hwang's penthouse, the dam broke, and tears streamed down your cheeks. They burned when they touched the cracked, swollen skin, courtesy of your uncle, but you still smiled at the sight of Eunjoo.

Instead of waiting next to the water bowl, like she had done before, the cat jumped on the countertop, her paw gently touching your wrist, where the imprinted dents of his fingernails were still visible. You didn't know why, but Eunjoo's gesture made you cry harder, heavy tears falling onto her plate. 

"Good kitty." You sobbed, daring to pet her, and she allowed it, nuzzling your hand for the first time since you met her.

Without wasting a single moment, you took out your phone to take a selfie of you and Eunjoo, and sent it to In-ho, with the caption 'Making progress!' You thought he might be happy to see her slowly lower her guard and get attached to you.

Who hurt you?

Stupid. How could you be so stupid to send a selfie when your cheek was grazed and puffy? Of course Mr. Hwang would ask about it, he was a nice man, one whose kindness you didn’t think you deserved.

I accidentally walked into a lamppost! Silly, right?

Hoping that the lie would be convincing enough, you carried on with your tasks after eating with Eunjoo, and to your surprise, it worked. It fooled him, but you weren’t proud of yourself in the slightest. 

You need to be more careful next time. If anything happened to you, who would take care of Eunjoo until I return?

It shouldn't have hurt reading his reply, and yet your heart ached. What did you expect? You were an employee, he obviously wanted his cat to be safe, not you. And how could someone like him even care about someone you? You came from different worlds that could never intertwine.

I will.

No thank you, no sad face — you were bitter, even though, rationally, you had no reason to be. Besides, you lied to him in the first place. Maybe if you told him the truth, he would have sent a different reply. It didn't matter. In less than five days he would come back, pay you and never speak to you again. Just like all rich people did.

You cleaned the bathrooms that morning, scrubbing the bath tubs, the toilets, the sinks and the floors until your fingertips stung and your head pounded from the bleach fumes. The vibration of your phone startled you, and you wiped your hands to check the notification.

Have I upset you?

Okay, maybe he did care. Or maybe he was just very observant and noticed your monotonous reply.

Not at all, I just have a lot on my mind. I'm sorry that you worried about me, or that I seemed upset! You're right, I need to be more careful next time.

Please don't take this the wrong way, miss, but I've never met anyone who apologised for making me worry about them. You're quite special.

You did a double take when you read Mr. Hwang's reply, and a wave of remorse crushed your heart. The man was too nice for you to lie to him, but you didn't want him involved in your family affairs, either. There was a strong internal conflict within you, a battle between honesty and dishonesty, but for the time being, dishonesty won, no matter how disgraceful it was.

Choosing not to reply, as time was ticking and the Abduls would be waiting for you soon, you swiftly finished tidying up the bathrooms and put away all the cleaning products so Eunjoo couldn't get to them. With the automatic feeder full, fresh water in the bowl and litter boxes clean, you left.

In all fairness, you didn't know what to reply to his text. No one called you special before, except for that one guy you dated who only wanted to sleep with you, and unfortunately succeeded. It wasn't your proudest moment, but you moved on since then. You stared at the text, typing a reply, then deleting it, then typing again, and you did that for the duration of the entire bus ride back to Guryong Village. By the time you knocked on Ali's door, you still hadn't come up with a response.

What could you even say? Thank you? Likewise? I'm sorry I lied to you, my uncle slapped me with the fly swatter? No. In telling the truth, Mr. Hwang would pity you, perhaps even offer you more money, or food, or clothes, and you didn't want to be pitied. You wanted your hard work to be recognised, not to use your social status or depressing background as an excuse.

Mrs. Abdul couldn't feed you that day, and that was fine. They needed to prioritise themselves, since they didn't live any better than you. Luckily, you saved enough money to buy a kimbap roll for lunch and a bag of rice crackers for dinner and breakfast. Resourcefulness was, perhaps, your strongest point and the reason you survived for so long.

The theme park was packed with tourists and locals, gathering to watch the parade, and you took the time to entertain children and take pictures with them, always on your feet, always working. Back in the dressing room, you took the comically large mascot head off, sweat dripping down your face and neck. Summers were worse — there were body parts you didn't think could sweat.

"Excuse me, Y/N?"

You looked up from your seat to a man around your age, a coworker named Donghyun. He had worked there for a few months or so, but you barely spoke.

"Yes?" You smiled, resting your elbows on the mascot head in your lap.

"We're getting paid today, and a few of us are going for drinks after work. I was wondering if you would like to come." Donghyun avoided looking into your eyes, nervously pinching the soft fur of his own mascot.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, but I have another job I need to get to. Maybe another time."

"Yeah, another time." He nodded. "Hey, could I get your number?"

"Why would you want my number?" You laughed, immediately pursing your lips when Donghyun frowned. "Sorry, yeah, of course I'll give you my number!"

You were such a people pleaser, it was ridiculous, but he seemed to feel better after saving your number in his phone. And there was no harm in making new friends.

"I'll text you later." Donghyun nodded with a smile and left.

What a strange interaction, you thought. It wasn't unusual for men to like you — you were pretty, smart, funny — but you just weren't interested in any of them. In fact, it was their age and maturity that didn't appeal to you. They acted like prepubescent pricks, trying to impress anything with a vagina and a pretty face by being obnoxious and loud and downright irritating.

Older men were different. They had manners, they were respectful and caring. They knew how to dress, knew how to speak to women, kind of like Mr. Hwang.

Oh. 

God, you needed to forcibly remove that thought from your mind before it spiraled into something worse. In-ho probably wanted nothing to do with you — no, he definitely didn’t want anything to do with you. He was just a nice gentleman who happened to not be married. Maybe he had a girlfriend that didn't live with him. Or maybe he worked so much he couldn't afford a relationship. 

Maybe he murdered people.

You laughed at that ridiculous idea — no one in their right mind would do that, especially not Mr. Hwang. He had a cat, for God's sake. Murderers usually killed animals, surely he was just a normal man with a lot on his mind, a workaholic, or a hermit.

Walking into your boss' office, you received your pay and counted the money — 662,326. You got more than you should've, completely forgetting about the pay rise. Your uncle didn't need to know about that, and you took the extra 2,326 and hid it in a small pocket inside your backpack, along with other money you saved. Unbeknownst to him, you secretly opened a savings account in the hopes that one day you would be able to leave and rent your own place, but you only had 1,094,463.60 won, which was barely enough to cover the deposit.

One day. One day you would leave all that abuse behind and have a fresh start. But today was not that day. 

Back in Gangnam-gu, you entered the penthouse earlier than normal and dropped your bag on the floor next to your worn and torn boots. You were hoping they would last through winter because you really couldn't afford a new pair. Eunjoo ran to greet you for the first time, and your heart was filled with joy at the sight of the cat rubbing against your leg. She was growing on you, and you soon realised how much you'd miss her when Mr. Hwang returned. Perhaps he'd let you visit her. 

You turned the TV on and played some songs by ABBA, the sadness of the morning gone, replaced only by joy and optimism. Things would turn out well, you just knew it. You grabbed In-ho's black clothes and placed them in the washing machine, all the while dancing to the beat of Money, Money, Money. It was a song you related to, but you didn't want to find a wealthy man. You just wanted to have enough money to survive without your uncle.

"It's a rich man's world." You sang to Eunjoo, who wiggled her butt, playfully attacking your feet. 

"All the things I could do if I had a little money, kitty. I would get my own apartment, I would donate to orphanages and charities. Oh, don't look at me like that." You frowned when Eunjoo stared at you judgmentally. "I would! There are people out there who need help. But you know what I would get for me? A hotteok! Ah, I would kill for that cinnamony goodness."

You placed the food on the floor and opened the pack of rice crackers. 

"My dad got me a hotteok on my seventh birthday. It was the best birthday ever and- oh my God, I'm talking to a cat." Laughing at the sudden realisation, you shook your head in disbelief. "Well, you're probably my only friend anyway. You don't judge me. You don't care if I'm rich or poor. You just listen and eat. Oh!"

Good evening, Mr. Hwang! Could I ask what your favourite dish is?

You decided that would be your gift. Cooking wasn't your strongest skill, but you were confident in yourself. And who didn't want to come back to a hot home-made meal? Maybe he liked jajangmyeon, or jjigae, or something sweet, like chapssaltteok. The possibilities were endless.

Beef Wellington. Why?

Your heart sunk to your stomach. Beef fucking Wellington? How on Earth could you even afford all the ingredients? The tenderloin itself was probably over 65,000 won. But you were going to do it for him, regardless of what it cost. You felt that Mr. Hwang deserved it. 

I was hoping to cook it for you when you returned. I'll admit, I didn't think it would be such a... fancy dish, but I'm sure I can manage. 

Have you tried it before?

I'm afraid not. Is it good?

Exquisite. You'll have to stay and try it when I return, yes?

Chewing on your bottom lip, your heart skipped a beat at his request. You knew he was just being nice, but you couldn't stop the sudden burning desire to just obey. 

Yeah, I'll stay. 

tagging: @ri1liane @anmert1 @syraxnyra @frshluvcats @lanyia @mettreads @nightdark-dreamdark @bridge-always @lovekm @audrey223 @ririgy @starkeyszn  @hobiesbrownsgf  @thoughtfulbelieverstrawberry @maria-trisha @akiqvq @10hrs26mn @tenzko @okaycharr @politicstanner @moonxknightx @googie-jeon @swthrtbyeol  @mariiestfu  @ratsnestinmyhair @missroro @talia-the-gemini @fortluocha @true-queen-of-mischief @ssa-callahan @bibliophile-yomna @wwastro @heartsforseo @marymun @glads-stuff @starryeddie @kisses2kanao @gagaga167 @l4venderia @scryi @lelisae @twicelover2 @ashtrosstuff @cruel-affair @cdej6 @veragrhm @nikos-a-clown @cchewhaz @pepsicolacoochie @lily-ann-b @red22wolf @nellabear @unabletonotlovesatoru @happiness2112 @waterjewelsspite @luna-looniesnlog @plan3t-plut0 @full-sunnies @houta-habtet-houta @alexisabirdie @riri53 @bluehourss

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!Reader Series

Summary: After moving to Hawkins to take care of your ailing grandma, you end up spending a wild night with Corroded Coffin's lead singer, Eddie Munson. When you uncover his true intentions, you have no desire to ever see him again, but fate--and his son, Harris--has other plans.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), fingering (f! receiving), oral (m!receiving), slowburn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, Eddie is 30, Reader is 28, no use of y/n

WC: 7.5k

Chapter 1/20

Scruffy!Eddie edit credit to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple Divider credit to @saradika

Late August, 1996. 

July had come and gone so quickly, and you could sense it in the muggy air as the daylight dwindled away on the horizon of an orange colored sky. Your heels click along the parking lot pavement as you make your way into the dingy bar. Everyone told you that your twenties would be full of surprises, but no one warned you that those twists and turns would land you in Hawkins, Indiana. 

The neon sign reads The Hideout; well, really, it reads Th H deo t, and the “o” is starting to flicker. You’re not the only one who notices the building’s crumbling exterior. 

“Huh,” Jess says, crossing her arms over her chest. “This place seemed a lot cooler when I was in high school.” Still, she pushes open the door, where you’re immediately hit with the stench of cigarettes and beer. The floor is sticky with what you can only hope is spilled liquor, and you take a seat on a rickety barstool. 

“How did you even hear about this place?” you ask your new friend, tugging your dress so it covers a bit more of your thighs. You had one night out to yourself, and Jess was insistent on you making the most of it. 

“Used to come here all the time when I was, like, sixteen?” She wrinkles her nose. “They’re dirt cheap and they never card, so my friends and I used to get super wasted. Thought we were hot shit.” She flags down the bartender with a wave and a smile. “Anyway, you can’t live in Hawkins and not come to the Hideout at least once. It’s a tradition.”

The bartender, a woman who looks to be in her mid-forties, leans on the counter. “What can I get you ladies?” she asks. Her voice is raspy from what sounds like decades of chain smoking. 

You’re about to order a Bud Light, but Jess cuts you off. “We’ll each have a Hideout Special,” she says confidently. “Make hers a double.”

“Jesus Christ, are you trying to kill me? And what the hell is a Hideout Special?”

She waves off your concern. “Honestly, I have no idea. But it’ll get you buzzed fast.”

You reluctantly agree, sipping on something that tastes vaguely like a mixture of rum and vodka, with the pungency of rubbing alcohol. “That’s awful,” you grimace, and Jess just laughs.

“Yeah, they’re pretty rough going down. But you only have one night to yourself, and you’re gonna make the most of it.” She links her arm through yours, using her free hand to tilt the drink back up to your lips. “Now, drink up. The band’s gonna start playing soon, and you’ll need all the liquor you can get. Trust me.”

Corroded Coffin, the band in question, is warming up in the back room. Tuesday nights   has been their slot since high school, and if their lead singer and guitarist has his way, it’ll be their slot until they’re too old to play. He’s tuning his ax, tongue poking out of his mouth in concentration, only looking up when he hears a faint “oh, shit,” come from his bandmate.

“Y’good?” Eddie asks, strumming gently to play a perfect A-chord.

“Yeah,” Jeff says, holding up a small black box. “Forgot I had this in my pocket; almost dropped it when I took off my jacket.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “That’s what you get for wearing leather in fuckin’ August, dude.” He squints at the object in Jeff’s hand. “What is that, anyway?”

“A ring,” Jeff proudly announces. “I’m gonna ask Viv to marry me.” The big, goofy grin on his face makes Eddie’s stomach churn. He looks at Gareth and Danny, expecting similar disgusted reactions from them, but they’re both smiling, too. 

“Way to go, man!” Danny says, and Gareth claps Jeff on the back. “Our little Jeff is growing up.”

“Oh, fuck off, man,” Jeff says, but he’s laughing as he accepts the congratulations. He glances expectantly at Eddie, waiting for him to chime in. 

“You two’ve been together for a million years,” Gareth jokes, twirling a drumstick in his free hand. “What made you decide to take the plunge?”

Jeff’s eyes dart around the room. “Okay, I wasn’t supposed to say anything,” he starts, voice hushed, “but Viv’s pregnant!”

“Holy shit!” Danny sputters. “Dude, you’re gonna be a dad!”

“Yeah,” Jeff agrees incredulously. “Fuckin’ wild, isn’t it?” His gaze falls to Eddie. “Does the seasoned professional have any words of wisdom?”

An uncharacteristic silence fills the room. Eddie can feel their eyes burning a hole into his head. He knows what he should say, what Jeff wants to hear, but he can’t bring himself to feign happiness. “You don’t have to marry someone just because you knocked her up.” It comes out with a snarl, meaner than he’d intended. 

“Crazy thought, but have you considered that I actually want to marry her?” Jeff shoots back, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’re not all content being miserable hermits like you are.”

“Whoa, break it up,” Gareth tries, stepping between the two guitarists, but the conversation’s already too heated. 

“I’m not miserable, and I’m not a hermit,” Eddie counters. “I’m just not about to limit myself when there’s plenty of pussy in the sea.”

Jeff rolls his eyes. “Whatever, dude. Thanks for the well wishes.” Eddie can’t help but notice the flash of hurt in his eyes as he walks away. A small part of him feels bad, but he can’t shake the anxiety that unexpected change seems to bring.  

“So, what does this mean for Corroded Coffin?” he asks. “Should we consider this our farewell show?” He tries to ignore the irritated glares he’s getting from Gareth and Danny. It’s like the words fall from his mouth before his brain can process the damage they can do. 

“Obviously, once the baby comes, I’ll have to take a step back,” Jeff shrugs. “And I’m gonna try to work some overtime before it’s born. Save some extra money, y’know.” 

The room had been zapped of joy, and Eddie feeds off of the sullen atmosphere. “Nice commitment to the band,” he sneers. “Glad to see how easily your priorities change.”

“Yeah, man, you should try it sometime,” Jeff snaps. His fists clench, and he looks angry enough to throw a punch. “Maybe you’ll stop acting like an overgrown teenager.” 

Eddie’s about to fight back, jaw locked in place and eyes seeing red, but he’s temporarily grounded by the sound of the manager’s tired voice echoing from the ancient sound system.  

“Put your hands together for Corroded Coffin!” A smattering of applause signals their cue to enter. Eddie tries to shake off the conflict; it can be resolved after they play. The show must go on, or whatever it was that his high school drama teacher always said. 

A balding man with a gruff voice introduces the band as Corroded Coffin. Jess’s eyes go wide; she’s already a few Hideout Specials deep and definitely feeling it.

“Oh, shit!” she laughs with a hiccup. “That’s my sister’s boyfriend’s band!” She motions to the bartender to pour her another drink, but you shake your head and just mouth water. The bartender gives you a knowing nod, probably grateful that she won’t have to be the one dealing with Jess tonight.

“Yeah, that’s Jeff!” Jess continues, pointing at a tall guitarist with tight curls. “He’s the one who knocked up Viv!” She cackles like she just made the most hilarious joke. “I totally forgot they were playing tonight.” She frantically waves at him, and he gives a small head nod in acknowledgment.

Your eyes are drawn to someone else: the lanky, ring-clad man who takes center stage. He grips the mic with black polished nails, smirking out into the crowd as he yells, “Hawkins, how’re we doin’ tonight?” The loudest cheers come from Jess, and you join in, letting out an obnoxious “woooooo!” in response.

The noise draws his attention, and you watch as his smirk shifts to something needier, hungrier, even. His big brown eyes land on you and Jess, leaving you momentarily breathless. He’s absolutely gorgeous, light stubble on his cheeks and above his plush lips. He’s wearing a white V-neck that shows off a dusting of chest hair. His torn black jeans hang low on his hips, accentuated with a studded belt. A gleaming pair of silver handcuffs are clipped to one of the loops.

“All right!” he calls back. “Well, this first one goes out to the pretty girl in the blue dress at the bar. Wait for me after the show, Sweetheart.” He counts out to four, and they launch into a cover of Def Leppard’s Pour Some Sugar on Me.

It doesn’t even register until Jess nudges you, more forcefully than necessary, and says, “Hey, you’re wearing a blue dress!”

Oh. 

Oh. 

“Who…who is he?” you ask, feeling a warmth spread through your core that you’re sure isn’t from the alcohol. 

“That,” Jess says, leaning on you for balance, “is Eddie Munson. Total freak back in high school, but now he’s just got a reputation for being a freak in the sheets.” She throws you a clumsy wink and adds, “looks like you’ll get to find out for yourself tonight.”

“I’m not really a one-night stand kind of person,” you counter, internally cringing at the memories of your feeble attempts at hooking up, all of which inevitably ended with you pining after them pathetically. 

Jess rolls her eyes. “Come on,” she whines, taking note of the way you and Eddie can’t seem to tear your gazes from each other. “Your dad leaves tomorrow, and then you’ll be spending your nights taking care of your grandma. You gotta live a little!”

Plopping back down onto the barstool, you consider her sentiment. It’s true; once your dad goes back home, you’ll be the one helping out in the evenings. And the new school year starts next week, leaving you with little time for yourself. 

Your whole life has been spent helping others. You became a teacher to shape young minds and provide them with a safe place to learn and express themselves. You moved to a tiny town in the middle of Indiana to look after your grandma. Even now, you’re babysitting Jess and ensuring she doesn’t dehydrate instead of letting loose and ordering another drink. 

“Fine, but only if he brings it up,” you concede. “I’m not gonna be the one to make the first move.”

The band moves on to their next song; it’s either an original or one you’re not familiar with, but you find yourself dancing to the beat. Jess joins you, writhing her body in some kind of drunken jig that has you cackling. You’re having such a great time that you don’t even notice Eddie tripping over a few chords as he watches you sway your hips back and forth. 

Corroded Coffin plays for another forty minutes. You recognize some Metallica and Black Sabbath songs, headbanging along until you’re dizzy. The bartender slides you another drink—on the house, she insists—and you sip it eagerly, trying to quell your nerves. Eddie shouts out, “thank you, Hawkins!” and disappears backstage with the rest of the band. 

You can’t ignore the dejected pain in your heart, but you muster up a smile and turn to Jess. “Ready to get out of here?”

She shakes her head, putting her palm on the bar to steady herself. “You still have to wait for Eddie,” she teases. “You promised.”

You cock your eyebrow in amusement. “First of all, Drunky McWasted, I didn’t promise anything,” you say, “and second, show’s over and, uh, he’s not here.” You swivel around for emphasis. 

“Give him a fucking second, would ya?” The comment doesn’t come from your friend, and you turn around to see Eddie standing behind you. He’s got a towel around the back of his neck, mopping up the sweat from his performance. His hair is pulled back into a low ponytail, and you can see the remnants of kohl eyeliner smudged around his lash line. “Had to clean myself up a little bit, damn.” He smiles, and you feel like you’re going to melt. 

Jess interrupts, pushing you closer to him. “Eddie, this is my neighbor.” When you still don’t say anything, too awestruck to introduce yourself, she tells him your name. 

Eddie nods, letting his fingers graze yours. “What’d you think of the set?” He grins at the bartender, who gives a small head bob and hands him a whiskey, neat. 

“It was good,” you manage, finally finding your voice. “I especially liked the song you dedicated to the pretty girl in the blue dress.” There. You flirted. The rest is up to him.

“Yeah?” He rests his forearm on the bar and leans over to take his glass. “Was kinda hopin’ you would. Soon as I saw you, I knew I had to shoot my shot.” His eyes flit over the low-cut neckline of your dress before he drags his gaze back to your eyes. “You new to Hawkins?”

“Mhm,” you say, watching as he fumbles with a pack of Newports. “I moved here to take care of my grandma.” Good going. Nothing turns a guy on like talking about your elderly relatives.

But Eddie’s unfazed. “Hot and nice? A lethal combo, if I do say so myself.”

“What about you?” you blurt out. “I mean, have you always lived in Hawkins?”

He shrugs. “Been back and forth. Came here when I was nine, left when I was twenty-two, then came back about four years ago.”

“What brought you back? Missed all the excitement?” You laugh and he gives a small smile, but an emotion you can’t pinpoint crosses over his face.

“Somethin’ like that,” Eddie mutters, popping a cigarette between his lips. “Wanna go outside an’ have a smoke with me?”

“I’d love to,” you say with an apologetic tone, “but I really don’t wanna leave her alone.” You motion to your friend, who is currently trying to convince the bartender to let her have another drink. But as soon as she hears you using her as an excuse, she waves you off.

“Go,” she insists. “I’ll be fine. ‘M gonna have Jeff take me back home.” She stands on her tiptoes, nearly falling over, flailing both her arms wildly when she spots Jeff in the crowd and shouting, “Jeffy! Jeffy, can you drive me home so these two can have sex?”

You feel your face heat up at her words as Eddie shakes his head incredulously, lips twisting into a cocky grin. The last thing Jeff wants to do after Eddie’s earlier tantrum is help him get laid, but he knows there will be hell to pay if he doesn’t watch after his inebriated sister-in-law-to-be.

“Yeah, sure,” he grumbles, carefully looping his arm around her waist and helps her to his car. He appears to deliberately avoid making eye contact with Eddie, though you don’t know why. The two of them seemed to be getting along just fine on stage. The rest of the band leaves with them, carrying various instruments. No one even acknowledges Eddie’s presence. 

“Uh, everything okay?” You can’t not pretend you didn’t notice; the tension is far too obvious.

Eddie brushes it off with another shrug. “Guys all got sticks up their asses, I dunno.” He pulls a black Bic lighter from his back pocket and motions towards the door, signaling your cue to walk out with him and drop the conversation.

Chirping crickets and a rowdy group of drunks shouting obscenities at each other punctuates the otherwise quiet atmosphere. Eddie looks at you expectantly, holding out his lighter, and you realize that he’s waiting for you to take out your own pack of cigarettes. A pack of cigarettes that you do not have.

“Oh, I, um, I don’t smoke,” you stammer, biting your tongue in irritation towards your own awkwardness. “I mean, I’ll smoke, like, socially, but I don’t carry cigarettes on me. Sorry.”

“Wanna bum one?” You pluck one from the pack and lean in as he lights it for you. The crisp inhale of tobacco lingers in your lungs for a moment before you breathe out, grateful that you didn’t cough like a middle schooler stealing cigs from her mom’s stash. You take another drag, watching as he does the same. You’d thought that there would be some level of conversation, but Eddie seems perfectly content smoking in silence.

“So,” you finally say, “how long have you been playing guitar?”

He chuckles and pushes his hand through his hair, stopping where it’s gathered into a hair tie. The perspiration on his forehead is starting to dry, but his bangs still stick to it. “Shit, gotta be twenty years now. Damn, I’m fuckin’ old.”

“How old are you?” It comes out more accusing than inquisitive, and you sharply inhale more nicotine to shut yourself up.

“Turned thirty last month.”

“Oh, that’s not old,” you reassure him. “I’m twenty-eight, so…not far behind.” 

He doesn’t say anything in response to this. Maybe you’d misread his intentions. Or maybe he’d lost interest after just a few moments alone with you. The pretty girl in the blue dress quickly becomes the lame girl in the blue dress, and you both return home unsatisfied.

You try again, this time saying something that warrants a response. “I just moved here last week, if you have any recommendations of places to go. Restaurants or something?”

Eddie shakes his head. “Nah, ‘s pretty boring around here.” 

End of conversation.

“Well, I should probably get home,” you say, shifting your weight onto your other foot and stubbing out your cigarette in the nearby ashtray. There’s no sense in wasting anymore time, and the nighttime chill is biting at your bare legs. 

“Wait, what?” Eddie practically does a double-take. “I thought…didn’t Viv’s sister say something about…”

Or maybe you’d read the situation correctly after all.

“You still want to?” 

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” He ashes his own cigarette, and the smirk returns to his face. “Your place or mine?”

Considering the fact that your place is currently housing an eighty-year-old woman with declining cognition, and your father, you quickly jump at the offer to go to his home. 

You walk with him to his car, a beat-up blue sedan. He opens the passenger door, and you thank him with a tight smile, still not sure what to expect. Maybe he’s just not into small talk, but he seems awfully closed off for a man who’s trying to get laid.

A tangle of tree-shaped air fresheners hang from the rearview mirror; they sway slightly as the two of you plop in your seats. Instinctively, you look behind you as he turns the key in the ignition. Nestled into the far left side of the backseat is a carseat. Cheerio crumbs are wedged in the crevices, and an empty sippy cup leans up against it.

“Is that a carseat?” It’s a dumb question; of course it’s a carseat, but you can’t bring yourself to be more blunt and ask if he has a kid. I mean, the guy couldn’t even tell you a single restaurant to go to.

“Oh. Yeah.” Eddie reaches around, placing a ringed hand on the back of your headrest as he backs out of the spot. He doesn’t elaborate on the matter, just speeds out of the parking lot, so you don’t push it.

The words, I love kids; I’m actually a preschool teacher, linger on your lips, but you bite them back. This is supposed to be casual, a one-night stand; you’re not trying to be anyone’s stepmother.

Eddie flicks on the radio to a metal station–of course–and you sit back and try to enjoy the ride. You can faintly hear him humming along to the music. The fingers on his left hand drum on the steering wheel, while his right hand finds its way to your upper thigh. Fuck, it feels good. He gently squeezes, and the sensation of his cold metal rings combined with his hungry touch makes you involuntarily press your legs together.

“Just wait, Sweetheart,” he laughs. “There’s more where that came from.” It’s probably the most he’s said to you all night, and you consider it a small win. You lean in and gently nip at his earlobe, grinning as he shivers at the contact.

“There’s more where that came from,” you echo, shifting back in your seat. Eddie looks at you, brows raised and forehead creased in amusement, but–big surprise–says nothing. He pulls into an apartment complex parking lot, swinging into the nearest available spot, and kills the engine. Without the music or the steady hum of the ignition, you’re suddenly plunged into complete silence. Are you really doing this? Going to a stranger’s apartment to have sex with him? What if he’s some sort of serial killer? But Jess knows him–sort of–and vouched for him, so he can’t be all bad, right? Although, Ted Bundy had friends, too…

Eddie clearing his throat disrupts your inner monologue, and you glance up at him shyly. “Sorry,” you mutter, though you’re not quite sure what you’re apologizing for.

“No biggie,” he says, like he’s used to women just spacing out in his car before they fuck him. “Um, y’ready to go inside?”

You nod, opening your door and carefully stepping out onto the uneven pavement. You wobble a little in your high heels, but you feel a hand on your lower back, steadying you. “Lemme help you,” he mumbles, lacing his fingers through yours and guiding you to the front door of the building. 

The two of you only make it to the stairwell between the first and second floors before he’s pouncing on you, your back against the cold concrete walls. His hands start on your waist, traveling upwards and lightly grazing your breasts before he’s cupping your face. His kisses are hungry, but not sloppy; when his tongue breaches your lips, you let him in without a second thought. He places his knee between your legs, just barely nudging it against your lace thong. “Fuck,” he hisses, pulling away from you and running his tongue over his teeth, “I need you, pretty girl.” 

You pout, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him deeply. “Can’t get naked until we’re in your apartment.” You pause before whispering in his ear, “and if you thought this dress looked good on me, wait till you see it on your floor.”

Eddie’s eyes widen. “‘S just another flight of stairs after this, yeah?” He doesn’t wait for a response, just takes your hand again and leads you to apartment 3C. There are a few Hot Wheels cars scattered on the ground, but he kicks them under the couch without further explanation. He sits down, adjusts his body on the soft beige cushion, and pats his lap. “Your throne,” he says cheekily, exposing tiny dimples on either side of his lips.

Wordlessly, you climb on top of him. Your dress bunches up as you straddle his waist, though that won’t be a problem much longer. You greedily grind your clothed pussy over the rough denim of his fly, sucking on his neck as his strong hands clasp the back of your thighs and pull you closer.

“Needy thing, hmm?” Eddie smirks, chuckling when you feign offense. “Where’re you going? ‘M just teasing you.” He sits up a bit, tugging one dress strap down and kissing the flesh between your neck and shoulder. “Maybe I read it wrong, but…y’look like a girl who likes to be teased,” he says, voice muffled by your skin. 

“N-No, I do. Like it,” you stammer, fumbling with the frayed hem of his shirt and lifting it over his head. You run your hands over the expanse of pale skin, admiring his tattoos. There’s one of a red guitar pick right above his left pec; without thinking, you kiss it gingerly. He lets out a quiet moan, unzipping your dress and helping you shimmy out of it. You’re not wearing a bra, and he nearly chokes on his own tongue when he sees you on display for him.

“Christ, baby,” he groans, “got the most perfect fuckin’ tits I’ve ever seen.” He kisses them and runs his thumbs over your pert nipples before briefly sucking on them. The nickname baby isn’t lost on you, but you try not to read into it. 

Still, there’s a sense of satisfaction at the way he’s crumbling literally beneath you, though you can’t help but snarkily say, “bet you say that to all the girls you bring back here.”

Eddie throws his head back and laughs, sending vibrations through your core. “Only the ones with perfect tits.”

You hate yourself for wondering how many perfect-breasted women there have been.

“Bedroom?” It’s all you can manage, already breathless from dry humping like a goddamn teenager on prom night.

Eddie hesitates before shaking his head, a curl falling loose from the hair tie. “Let’s just, uh, stay out here. Room’s kinda a mess.” The unsure expression on his face hints at another reason, but he quickly distracts you by pushing your panties to the side, slipping his middle finger into your aching cunt. “Holy shit. S’fucking wet already. I knew you were needy.”

“Y-Yes. Need you. Need more.” You’re already stretched out by one finger, but you’re dying to know how a second one feels. The more of him inside you, the better. He obliges, fucking you with his pointer and middle fingers while his thumb makes tiny, hurried circles against your clit. “That’s it, right…right there. Don’t stop; please don’t stop!” He brings you to your orgasm, smirking as you finish all over his fingers. 

Your rocking slows, and you reluctantly pull yourself off of him and sink to your knees. He’s unbuckling his belt as fast as he can, and you can’t help but notice the wet spot on his jeans right where you were grinding on his thigh.

Eddie’s pants and plaid boxers are around his ankles in a heartbeat. His hard cock rests against his stomach; a pearly bead of pre-cum leaks from the tip. “Let’s see what that cute little mouth can do, Sweetheart,” he muses, leaning back into the couch with his hands behind his head.

You bite your lower lip. “First I gotta clean you off, yeah?” you ask before licking the tip, tasting him. His length twitches at that minimal contact, which makes you giggle. “Just relax. Let me take care of you.” There’s no protesting, so you grasp the base of his shaft with one hand and cup his balls with the other. You suck on the head, circling it with your tongue, before taking as much of the rest of his cock as you can fit into your mouth. 

“Mmm, baby, yes,” he growls, inhaling sharply when you gently tug on his balls. “Thas’ a good girl. Play with my fuckin’ balls, just like that.” He bucks up his hips, bringing his cock even further down your throat. “Gag on it, baby. Gag on my big fuckin’ cock.”

He’s not wrong; at least, it’s the biggest of any guy you’ve ever been with. Hollowing out your cheeks, you increase your pace, letting your nose brush against his patch of dark curls. Saliva drips down your chin; you swipe at it clumsily and keep your focus on him. 

“Shitshitshitshitshit–FUCK!” Before you can even process what’s happening, Eddie pulls out of you. Thick, hot ropes of cum trickle down his right hand, and he buries his face in his left. You reach for a tissue and hand it to him, and he angrily wipes off his spend. 

“Gimme fifteen minutes, and I’ll be good to go,” he says, tossing the used tissue in a nearby wastebasket. He finds the remote tucked behind a couch cushion and clicks on the TV. An episode of Seinfeld comes on. “You’ll do,” he mutters, plopping down next to you and poorly stifling a yawn.

“Sleepy?” you tease, wrapping your naked chest in an itchy wool blanket and curling up. He doesn’t put his arm around you, or make any attempt to cuddle, so neither do you.

“Nah, ‘m fine.” But nearly five minutes later, while Jerry and Elaine argue about God-knows-what, you can hear Eddie softly snoring next to you.

“Eddie,” you whisper. No response, so you try a little louder. “Eddie!”

“Huh? What?”

“I can, uh, I can go now. I’ll call a cab. Just need your address.” You start to get up and head for the phone hanging on the wall, but he puts an arm out to stop you.

“‘S’okay. Stay for a bit, baby.”

Stay for a bit, baby.

It almost feels like you’re taking advantage of him; his curt conversations and closed-off demeanor earlier in the night indicated that he was not looking for someone to sleep over. But now he’s asking you to stick around, resting his head on your shoulder and letting one tattooed arm drape over your waist. You let him stay there, trying your best not to wake him, but you’re forced to reach over him to grab the remote when an infomercial starts blaring.

“C’mere,” he mumbles, half-asleep as he lays down and scoots himself as far back as he can. You follow his lead, pressing your back against his bare chest. Your eyelids flutter shut, and you find yourself drifting off while wrapped in the warm embrace of this handsome stranger.

RRRRIIIINNGGG! RRRRIIIINNGGG!

You’re startled awake by a loud, unfamiliar noise that doesn’t sound like your alarm clock. 

RRRRIIIINNGGG! RRRRIIIINNGGG!

Eddie jolts up, almost knocking you off the couch. “Shit, didn’t think you were still…” He turns towards the ringing sound, still confused. “What time is it?!” His eyes widen as he gets a look at the clock, which reads 7:19. “Shit, shit, shit! Son of a bitch!” 

He practically flies off of the couch, sprinting to the phone and bringing the receiver to his ear. “Wayne? Yeah, I’m sorry…overslept. I can be there in ten…no, you don’t have to do that, I’ll just…okay, okay, fine. See you soon.” He hangs up with a clank, turning back to you. 

You’re just sitting on the sofa, still wearing nothing but your underwear and the blanket. “Everything…um, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, but he lets out an overwhelmed sigh. “Let me help you find your dress.” He doesn’t say it aloud, but the real meaning behind his words seeps through: you should leave.

You nod, feeling the all-too recognizable lump in your throat. It happens any time these shared intimate moments come to an end; the realization of just how temporary you are in someone’s life is a punch to the stomach.

You find the bunched blue garment behind the couch and slide it over your head. The fabric feels stale and cold against your skin, like it doesn’t belong to you. Eddie’s only wearing his boxers, and you catch yourself staring at the collection of tattoos that trail down his arms and torso.

“Like what you see?” He laughs when you duck your head, scratching at the stubble on his cheeks as he walks towards you. “C’mon, don’t be shy. Not after that little show you put on for me last night.” He leans down, tilting your chin up to him and kissing you softly. “Before you go, leave your number, yeah?”

That makes you roll your eyes. “Oh, please,” you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest.

“What?”

“Don’t ask for my number if you’re not gonna call,” you say. You sling your bag over your shoulder as you walk to the door. “We don’t have to do the whole song-and-dance. We can just, y’know, leave this as a one-night stand.”

Eddie chuckles incredulously. “You wound me, Sweetheart,” he says. “‘Course I’m gonna call you. How could I not wanna see a girl as beautiful as you again? ‘Sides,” he adds slyly, “We didn’t even get to the best part.”

Begrudgingly, you write your number on a nearby notepad. The phrase don’t get my hopes up for nothing sits on the tip of your tongue, but you bite it back.

You’re halfway down the stairwell when you remember that you never called a cab. There’s no way in hell that you’re going to clamber back up to the third floor and ask Eddie to use his phone–and get his address–so you continue down to the lobby payphone and dial Jess’s number.

“H-Hello?” a man’s sleepy voice picks up on the third ring.

“Uh, Jess?” It’s clearly not your neighbor, but you have no idea what else to ask. Did she find some skeezy guy to bring home from the Hideout last night? 

“Nah, it’s Jeff. Who’s this?” When you say your name, he hums in acknowledgment. “Oh, yeah. From the bar, right?”

“Yeah…is Jess there?”

He yawns into the receiver. “Last I checked, she was asleep. Finally. She spent half of last night puking her guts up. Everything okay?”

“Mhm. I was just wondering if she could pick me up from…um, from Eddie’s.” You cringe at your admission; the last thing you want is for Eddie’s bandmates to think that you’re some kind of pathetic groupie.

But Jeff seems unfazed. “I’ll be right there.” Before you can protest, he hangs up. 

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the glass-door reflection. Your hair is a mess, and there’s smudged makeup around your eyes and lips, like a billboard for the walk of shame.

Jeff pulls up a few minutes later, and you bashfully climb into the passenger seat. “Thanks,” you mumble, trying not to let your humiliation show through.

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs as he pulls onto the main road, “it’s a special occasion.” When you pinch your eyebrows together in confusion, he laughs. “Ed never lets a girl stay over. Not sure what you did–don’t wanna know, to be honest–but you must’ve made quite the impression.”

“Didn’t mean to,” you say quietly. “We both fell asleep after…yeah. We only woke up when we did because some guy named Wayne called.”

Jeff nods knowingly. “That’s his uncle. He watches his son on Tuesdays when we have our gigs.” 

His…son?

Jeff must notice the stunned expression on your face, and his cheeks flush pink. “Shit, he didn’t tell you about Harris?”

“We didn’t do much talking,” you reply wryly. “I’ll have to ask him about that when he calls.”

“Christ,” Jeff shakes his head. “Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but he’s not gonna call. Never does. Calls it the ‘Cat-and-Mouse.’”

“The what?” Your throat goes bone-dry. You should’ve trusted your intuition, denied giving him your number, left it as a one-time thing.

“He brings a girl back to his place, has sex with her and asks for her number, but doesn’t call. When she shows up to the bar the next week, all insecure and wondering if he’s still interested, he acts like he’s been so busy, apologizes profusely, and strings her along until she catches on. Then it’s onto the next one.”

You feel like your heart’s been ripped out of your chest. Bile burns at the back of your esophagus, and you have to blink back tears. How could you be so stupid, so naive? Didn’t you know by now that guys like Eddie Munson are only after one thing?

The two of you sit in silence until he pulls up to your building. “Thanks,” you say finally, “for the ride and for the warning.” Jeff just nods, watching to make sure you get inside before driving off. As soon as he’s safely down the road, you burst into tears. Angry at Eddie, but mostly angry at yourself.

Eddie watches from his window as you get into a car��Jeff’s car–and leave. Great, he thinks, I’m sure I’ll get my ass handed to me at our next practice for fucking around with his sister-in-law’s friend. If we even still have a band, anyway.

Throwing on a pair of dark gray sweatpants and an undershirt, he makes his way downstairs just as Wayne and Harris arrive. His son is leaping out of his carseat to get to him.

“Daddy!” Harris flashes a gigantic smile. His dark brown curls are a tangled mess atop his head. Eddie unbuckles him and wraps him in a giant hug. He’s losing the chubbiness of his baby fat, but he’s still sweet and cuddly.

“Har-Bear!” Eddie laughs. “Did you say goodbye to Grampa Wayne?” Harris encircles Eddie’s waist with his legs, reaching out his arms to give Wayne a hug through the window.

“Sorry again,” Eddie says sheepishly. “Fell asleep and forgot to set the alarm.”

“Got a job yet? A real one?” Wayne asks stoically, ignoring his nephew’s apology.

A storm cloud washes over Eddie’s face. “I’ve told you a million times: nothing’s going to pay the bills as well as working for Rick.”

Wayne rolls his eyes. “Get a job,” he says pointedly, pressing a kiss to Harris’s cheek before lowering his voice and growling at Eddie, “and wipe the damn lipstick off your neck, for Chrissake.”

Jeff’s right: Eddie never calls. The home health aid that takes care of your grandma during the day informs you at the end of each shift that week that no one named Eddie called for you. And while you can’t say you’re shocked, it doesn’t do much to quell the hurt.

You spend as much time as you can preparing your classroom for the new school year. By the time you’re finished, the room is decorated to look like a jungle. Stuffed animals of lions, monkeys, and different birds line the shelf tops, which are packed with various books and art supplies. Your walls are decorated with different posters, all of which encourage kids to be their best. 

The hustle and bustle of the first day of school helps keep your mind off of your personal life. With a thermos full of hot coffee, you happily introduce yourself to your teaching assistant, Will. He’s a sweet guy, a few years younger than you, and he’s practically bursting with games to teach the kids.

“Before I forget,” he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a folded piece of paper, “I picked up our roster from the office on my way in. Looks like we have ten kids this year.”

“You’re the best,” you tell him gratefully, and he starts putting tiny chairs around tiny tables.

Being new to town, you don’t expect to recognize any of the names on the list. There’s an Abigail Carver, a Joshua Harrington…

And a Harris Munson.

“No fucking way,” you muse, apparently a bit louder than you’d intended, because Will’s head snaps up and he swivels in your direction. “Sorry.”

The sounds of bubbly giggles and excited chatter filing into the hallway grab your attention. One by one, parents start dropping off their kids, kissing them goodbye. There are tears–some from students, some from parents–and you’re quick to reassure everyone that school will be so much fun.

You’re just grabbing the sign-in sheet for Mr. Carver to fill out when you feel a small thump against your legs. When you look down, you see a curly-haired boy staring up at you with wide, brown eyes. 

“This is my classroom!” he says matter-of-factly, pointing to the number 3 on the door. “My name’s Harris. Like the guy from Iron Maiden!” He jumps up and down as he speaks. “Are you my teacher?”

“I am.” You smile and introduce yourself, peering towards the door. “Harris? Did a grown-up drop you off?” And please tell me his name is Wayne, you silently plead. 

“Oh, yeah! My dad has my backpack!” He starts running back to the hallway, only to crash right into Eddie. 

“Little dude, you can’t be running off like—” Eddie stops mid-sentence when his eyes land on you. “Oh, shit.”

You set your jaw, willing yourself to stay strong. He’s on your turf now. 

“Mr. Munson, you need to watch your language,” you warn crossly. 

“Yeah, sorry,” he mutters, handing Harris’s backpack to him. “I packed him a snack, um, and a juice box.”

“Okay,” you nod, crouching down to Harris’s eye level and injecting enthusiasm into your voice. “Can you find your cubby? It’s the one with your name on it!”

The little boy bounds over to his assigned spot, hanging his bag on the hook before running over to play with blocks. 

Forced to interact with Eddie, you press up on your knees and say, “Pick-up is at two.”

“Can I say goodbye to my kid before you kick me out? Jeez,” he grunts, calling out to Harris with his arms wide open. Harris hugs him, half-heartedly promising to be on his best behavior before starting to race back to the toys. 

“We walk in the classroom,” you tell him sweetly. “That way, people don’t hurt each other!” You make a point to look over at Eddie when you say the last part, though his gaze is trained on the classroom posters. Harris, innocent and oblivious, walks hurriedly towards the group of kids playing with blocks. 

“Didn’t know you were my kid’s teacher,” Eddie remarks, pressing his tongue into his cheek. 

You shrug. “Maybe I would’ve told you if you called me.”

Shooting you the wide eyes that he passed down to his son, Eddie lets his lower lip jut out in a little pout. “I’m so sorry; life’s just been, like, crazy lately—”

“Exactly what Jeff said you’d pull,” you bite back. “Two PM, Mr. Munson.” You walk towards your students to begin circle time, leaving Eddie dumbfounded. 

After a long day of wrangling ten four-year-olds, you’re ready to go home and take a nap. The kids are gathered around the table, molding Play-Doh and giggling amongst themselves. By 2:10, everyone’s been picked up. Except for Harris.

“Typical,” you mutter, kneeling next to the boy and smiling sweetly. “Whatcha making, Harris?”

He holds up a lump of the yellow clay. “A dinosaur, see? Roar!” You fake being scared, and he laughs. “Don’t worry; it’s just pretend!”

“Oh, phew!” You wipe imaginary sweat off of your brow. “I was afraid that he was gonna eat me!”

Harris reaches over to where one of the other students had been sitting and plucks a handful of blue Play-Doh off of the table. “Wanna play with me?” He’s looking at you adoringly, and you can’t possibly turn him down.

Just as you’re about to join him, Eddie runs into the room. “Hey, buddy! Sorry I’m late. Got, uh, caught up with something.” 

Harris just shrugs, unaffected by his dad’s tardiness. “S’okay. Look!” He holds up the dinosaur proudly, giving another ferocious roar.

“That’s awesome! And super scary.” Eddie ruffles Harris’s curly hair before looking at you. “Can we talk for a sec? Out there?” he asks, gesturing to the hallway.

You huff out a sigh. “Fine,” you concede, and Will slips into the chair next to Harris. 

Eddie closes the door behind him. “Listen,” he begins, twisting his rings around his fingers, ”about the other night…” He trails off, and for a split second, you think he might offer a genuine apology. “I just don’t want this to affect how you treat Harris.”

You bark out an incredulous laugh. “You really think I treat my students any differently based on whether or not I like their parents?” Crossing your arms, you turn back towards the door, throwing out a pointed, “I think it’s best if you leave now.”

Eddie’s voice draws you back into the conversation. “I’ve never had this problem before,” he snorts. 

“Excuse me?”

“Most girls love the thrill of the chase. The will-he, won’t-he. Haven’t struck out yet,” he retorts, a smug grin spreading on his face. 

You roll your eyes. “Well, I’m honored to be the first. I don’t know what girls are into your pathetic games, but I’m certainly not one of them. So, please, just go before you say something else ridiculously stupid.”

Eddie bristles at that, standing a bit straighter and clenching his jaw. “Yeah, whatever,” he mutters, twisting the doorknob and punctuating his frustration with, “Frigid bitch.”

He’s just trying to get under your skin, and you refuse to let him get the best of you. You plaster on a well-practiced fake smile. “If you don’t think that this classroom is a good fit for Harris, you can request a transfer with the office.”

“Sounds like a plan, Sweetheart,” he snaps, yanking the door open so aggressively that it smacks into the wall. “We’ll be out of your hair by tomorrow.”

“Can’t come soon enough.”

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[lordprettyflackotara]

big bad wolf || sam golbach

SMUT MINORS DNI 18+. tw: drug lord!sam, drug dealer!reader, aggressive sex, orgasm denial, bickering, talk of drugs. a key is basically a fuckton of coke guys LOL. (i’ve been watching too much snowfall), choking, there’s a gun involved but no gun play

With a quick flick of his lighter, Sam Golbach watched the end of his cigarette spark to life. He inhaled deeply, allowing the scent feeling of tobacco swirl around his lungs. Cigarettes were Sam’s bad habit. One he only allowed himself to take part in when he was extremely stressed.

As he sat outside of your house in his BMW, the stress was practically suffocating. He loved Colby. Colby was a good friend, communicator, and most importantly, a good business partner. Sam would do anything for him, the two building an undeniable drug empire over the last four years. The blonde exhaled the smoke, ignoring the haziness it was creating.

Sam and Colby were the perfect duo to run what they did. Sam was ambitious and a perfectionist. The numbers he crunched were light work. He practically ran laps around them. Colby was almost the opposite, his mind never able to wrap itself around the logistics. But his silver tongue made the boys connections that Sam would’ve never gained on his own. He was too paranoid, his distaste for others often written all over his face. But Colby saved face, his smile and soothing words gaining them lifelong business connections and mutual respect.

The boys agreed on almost everything, except for one tiny little thing. Once a month Colby returned to their home town in Ohio, doing runs to their original client base. Once they sold their first few keys of coke Sam never saw the point. But Colby refused to abandoned the people who believed in them from the start. Sam never went with him and opted out of any opportunity to return to where it all started. That was until Colby had a solo meeting he had to attend in Mexico. The potential business partners weren’t fond of Sam, Colby’s charm the biggest selling point.

Imagine his distain when Colby asked him to do his hometown runs for him. If it wasn’t for the possible new extension of an entirely new product, Sam would’ve said no. Truthfully he was just making himself miserable. His eyes narrowed as he confirmed the address that was scribbled on the piece of crumbled paper in between his fingertips. It was the right address, it was yours.

The blonde glanced at the clock, sighing. You were supposed to come out at 1:00 am on the dot, the time 12:59. As Sam inhaled another deep breath of his cigarette he decided that if you weren’t there by 1:01 he’d bail. He perked up at the sound of your front door closing, your appearance a sight for sore eyes. Leggings hugged your curves, filthy converse covering your feet. A tight black jacket covered your torso, the zipper down just enough to show your breast bouncing ever so slightly as you walked. As attractive as you were, Sam only had one thought: Colby was definitely fucking you.

Confidently you strode up to the window, knocking gently on the tinted glass. Sam rolled down his window, exhaling the smoke through his nose. “You’re not Colby,” You point out flatly. Sam refrained from rolling his eyes. Instead he shifted ever so slightly in his seat. “Great observation. What do you usually buy?” Sam asked, wanting to get this over with. The orders for the small pool of clients here were never massive. The blonde was able to get by with his stock being in a simple black backpack. “I’ll take a key,” You respond confidently. Sam began to dig around in his backpack, shoving his pre-weighed bags of weed to the side.

“Colby sick or something?” You questioned. Sam wanted to ignore you, his cigarette hanging from his lips. “No he’s just busy, so today you get me,” He huffed. He pulled out the key, his eyes flickering over to your black purse. You reached into it, presenting him with five sheets of tabs of acid. Sam blinked a few times, firmly believing his eyes were deceiving him. “What the fuck is this?” He snapped. You were taken aback by his response. “What I trade Colby for the key,” You replied. Sam audibly scoffed, removing his cigarette from his lips.

“You are out of your mind. We only accept cash, no trades, no bullshit,” Sam argued. He had to admit your attempt to trade was amusing, your confidence unmatched. “Colby always lets me trade. Why don’t you grab an ehrich’s reagent and test my shit if you’re so hesitant?” You countered. Sam didn’t care about testing your tabs for quality. “Dont be such a pussy. I have good product here. Real intense shit,” You debated. Your insistence was beginning to annoy the blonde in front of you. He flickered the kash of his cigarette out of his window, attempting to maintain his composure. How had Colby let this go on for so long? How many keys was he pissing away just for some pussy? Cocaine wasn’t cheap. Sam avoided eye contact with you, afraid his emotions would be written all over his face.

You were beginning to grow impatient. “I have people who are ready to buy my product and you’re currently wasting my time and money. Hand it over,” You say impatiently. Sam frowned and boldly met your fire filled gaze. “Your product?” He echoed. He found himself sarcastically laughing, unable to comprehend your boldness. “You don’t cook it the way I do, therefore it’s mine,” You debated. Sam took one last inhale of his cigarette, before flicking it out of the window beside you. “Look I understand you let Colby fuck you and that’s how you got away with this shit but listen closely. I don’t think with my dick, so you’re not getting our premium shit for some Ohio LSD,” Sam spat.

He could visibly see your confidence falter, your crossed arms falling. “Now if you’ll excuse me you’ve wasted enough of my time,” Sam huffed harshly, grabbing the stick of his car and shoving it into reverse. In a split second you had thrown your acid in the car, the sheets landing against the passenger side door. “What the fuck are you-” He began to question, the weight of your body surprising him. You had thrown yourself into his car through the drivers window. You were not one to play games, not when it came to a deal. “You bitch! The fuck-” Sam hissed, watching in shock as you crawled over him and into the passengers seat. You crossed your arms, glaring at him. “I’m not leaving this car until you give me my shit,” You spat, venom lacing every last word. Sam gritted his teeth, growing rather annoyed. This was the clientele that Colby was running around for? The blonde made a mental note to put his ass through the wringer for making him put up with you. “Get out of my car,” Sam barked. Your eyes shot daggers, your position firm.

“No.”

Sam rolled up his window, throwing his cigarette bud out of it before it rolled shut. “Why don’t you try my product if you don’t believe me?” You counter offered. Sam scoffed, putting the car in reverse. The last thing your neighbors needed to notice was his presence everlasting in your driveway. “I don’t do drugs. Kind of the rule of thumb if you’re going to be in this line of work,” Sam huffed. You grumbled to yourself as you put on your seatbelt. “Cute and smart. Only thing you’re lacking is a goddamn personality. How did Colby wind up with you?” You questioned, mainly talking to yourself. Sam quickly sped out of your neighborhood, causing you to raise an eyebrow. “If you’re trying to drive like the fast and furious to scare me, it’s not gonna work,” You snapped. Sam rubbed his temple. What the hell was he going to do with you? He couldn’t exactly let you ride around with him all night. Murdering you wasn’t an option either. Not only was it too much work to clean up, but Colby would be pissed. He strummed his fingertips on the steering wheel, pondering to himself. You glared out of the passengers window, silently wondering to yourself what exactly was going to happen to you if you kept this charade up. There was only so long you could pretend to be as put together as a drug lord.

Sam’s mind was running in circles. He pulled out of your neighborhood, putting the car into sport mode. He slammed his foot on the gas, causing you to grip the seat. “Could you slow the fuck down?” You asked. Sam flew down the empty street, chuckling to himself. “Could you get the fuck out of my car?” He countered. For a brief moment he saw a flash of fear spread across your face, the sight giving him an idea. He slowed down, pulling into a side dirt road that connected a forest. Sam put the car into park, reaching over you and digging in his glovebox. He pulled out a small black pistol, clicking off the safety and pointing it at your head. “Take your shitty acid and get the fuck out of my car,” He barked. You froze momentarily, before taking off your seatbelt and turning to him. You closed the gap of space between you and the end of the pistol, the cool metal pressing against your forehead. “Go on, do it,” You whispered. Sam’s eyes widened, his hardened facade faltering. “Are you deadass?” He questioned. Your eyes flickered to his, causing him to gulp nervously. There was something oddly attractive about that look in your eyes, causing him to freeze. You didn’t reply, waiting for him to make the next move.

“Son of a bitch, you’re out of your mind,” He grumbled, removing the gun from your temple. How could he find you so hot for challenging him? Fuck he was growing weak. You smirked to yourself, fighting a giggle. “Says the one who just threatened to shoot me,” You say, a small giggle escaping your lips. Sam turned the safety back on, chucking it back in his glovebox. You nervously played with your hair, pulling at a random strand with your fingers. “You know, you look kinda cute holding a gun like that. Real God Father of you,” You complimented, attempting to lighten the mood. The sooner he warmed up to you, the sooner you could get your key and bounce. “You looked kinda cute having a gun to your head if that’s any constellation,” He said, attempting to be nice. You had an attractive aura about you, one that Sam was starting to see the longer you weren’t fazed by who he was. Maybe in a different life he’d take you out on a date. “If i’m telling the truth this acid belonged to my ex boyfriend, it’s probably shitty,” You admitted, holding up the tab. Sam muttered a snarky ‘I knew it’, which caused you to roll your eyes. “I’m not lying to Colby about it though. He just pretends he doesn’t notice. He does it as a favor to me to help me keep a roof over my head,” You explained.

Sam scoffed, “Can’t you just work at Waffle House or something?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

There was a brief silence, before Sam chuckled. “So you’re not fucking Colby then?” He questioned. You let out a fake gag. “Seriously? Hell no i’m not fucking him. You only think that because i’m pretty,” You argued. Sam rolled his eyes, his annoyance growing once more. “I never called you pretty,” He debated. You could’ve laughed in his face if his audacity hadn’t frustrated you. “With the way you’ve been staring at me? You don’t have to,” You barked. Sam readjusted in his seat, turning to you. “And what if I do think you’re pretty? Huh? What if I told you I wanted to fuck you senseless right here and right now? What would you do then hotshot?” Sam bickered. You uncrossed your arms, unzipping your jacket. “You don’t even have to ask,” You mumbled, crawling over into his seat. You straddled his lap, your face an inch away from his. Sam could feel his face growing hot, watching as you shrugged your jacket off of your shoulders. It left you in nothing but a bra, your breast begging to be touched.

“This doesn’t mean you’re getting the key,” Sam whispered, glancing down at your plump lips. You rolled your eyes, rolling your hips against his. “Shut up and kiss me,” You replied, the blonde eagerly crashing his lips onto yours. He grabbed the mounds of your ass, gripping the flesh harshly. You groaned into his mouth, his lips suffocating in the best way. He guided you to continue grinding against him, his cock already growing harder through his jeans. You teasingly grinned at the sight. “Awe is someone hard for me? I knew you’d be easy, slut,” You mocked. Sam bit your bottom lip, causing you to whine. He reached around and unclasped your bra, tossing it aside. “I’m the easy one? You’re fucking your drug dealer,” Sam sneered, grabbing one of your breast and rolling your nub in between his index and middle finger. You groaned, meeting his icy gaze. “You’re not my drug dealer, Colby is,” You barked. Sam brought his mouth to your other nipple, sucking at it harshly. You tugged at his blonde hair, your back arching at the sensation.

You could only feel yourself growing wetter, your body aching for the bastard beneath you. Sam released your nipple with a pop, admiring how hard it grew from the exposure to the cool air. “So you let Colby fuck you too then? Whore,” Sam growled. He began to tug down your leggings, yanking your panties down with him. You awkwardly tried to assist, your head hitting the roof of the car. “For such an expensive car it sure is small, just like i’m sure your dick will be,” You hissed, the cool night air hitting your exposed slick. Sam ran two fingers up your folds, gathering your wetness. “You’re really turned on for a stranger. You really that lonely?” Sam jarred. You aggressively yanked at his belt, fiddling with the damned buckle. Sam continued rubbing your clit is teasingly slow circles, enjoying watching your face turn red. “I could say the same to you Sammy,” You argued weakly, helping the blonde shove down his pants and boxers. You whimpered as he rubbed faster circles around your clit, your anger facade faltering. You grabbed handfuls of his shirt, your insults replaced with moans. “Dont call me that. Shut up and moan for me,” Sam ordered darkly, a sadistic smile crawling up his lips.

It was like he read your body like a book, the cord inside of you growing too fast. You grabbed his wrist, the blonde refusing to slow down. “Holy fuck, gonna cum,” You whined, your warning only causing the sensation to stop. You immediately grew angry, glaring at the drug lord below you. “Bad sluts don’t get to cum, unless it’s on my dick of course,” He smirked up at you. You gritted your teeth, grabbing his length and aligning it with your entrance. You began to sink onto it, both of you letting out a moan of relief in unison. Your gummy walls were clinging to his cock, begging for more as you bottomed out. Sam bit his bottom lip, watching you eagerly swallow him whole. “Not so cocky now huh?” You giggled, earning an eye roll from Sam. He gripped your hips, before guiding you to bounce up and down on his cock. All cockiness and anger had faded away, the two of you moaning unison as his tip brushed against your g spot. You couldn’t control your sinful noises, the car windows beginning to fog as you tilted your head back in pleasure.

“Fuck, just like that babygirl, fuck,” Sam panted. For a brief second the drugs didn’t even matter, the big bad wolf facade you both demonstrated had vanished. Sam’s frustration towards Colby, your desperation to feel something after your break up. None of it mattered, all that mattered was his cock sliding in and out of you, abusing your sex as he pleased. “Feels so good Sammy,” You whined. Sam grunted, using one of his hands to slither up to your throat. He wrapped his fingers around your neck, squeezing at he fucked upwards into you. He could feel your walls squeeze his cock tighter, a mischievous grin growing. “You like that huh? Don’t call me Sammy,” Sam grunted. You could feel the knot in your stomach tightening, your thighs trembling. You brought your hand to Sam’s throat, mimicking his actions. You felt his cock twitch inside of you, a lazy laugh escaping your lips. You both were becoming spent, your orgasms growing nearer. “I’m so close, let me cum,” You pleaded, squeezing his neck. You maintained intense eye contact with him, the blonde obsessed with the way you moaned his name.

“Cum with me, cum now.”

His words sent you over the edge, the two of you a sweaty mess piled together. Both of your hands fell, the struggle for dominance now completely over. Sam peered at the exhausted girl laying on his shoulder, sighing when he came to a realization.

He’d have to come to Ohio more often.

[fandoms-x-reader]

Inside a Horror Game (Part 3)

Requested By: @deludedprime

Word Count: 5,506

Part 1 - Part 2

You stood by yourself in one of the stone rooms in the labyrinth. The others were still trapped in their rooms, doing everything they could to escape.

You ran a hand over your face, trying to compose your thoughts. What had you done wrong? Why couldn’t you get them to succumb to their sin? Why couldn’t you kill them like you had set out to do? 

_______________

You woke up in darkness. It was quiet and empty with nothing and no one around you. You took a few steps forward trying to find out where you were.

You heard a voice off in the distance. You recognized the voice, but you couldn’t quite make it out. It was too quiet. You were too far away. You began walking in the direction of the noise and started hearing others.

You stopped when they finally came into view. Everyone you loved was portrayed in front of you in a vision. You could see and hear them, but you couldn’t reach out and touch them. “Hey,” you stated, waving your hand at them.

“Hey!” you shouted louder, your movement becoming a bit more frantic, hoping to catch their attention. But they didn’t react at all. They were looking right at you. They were talking to you. So, why couldn’t they see or hear you?

“Let them go.”

Your focus snapped to Lucifer as he spoke those words. You felt an uneasy tension building up inside you as your heart began racing. He was talking about you, wasn’t he? You took a few steps backward and your mind was overwhelmed as you recollected your time stuck in the videogame. 

“Soon you’ll find the urge to kill them stronger than any urge you have to protect them.”

You were the one speaking those words. It was your voice talking and your body moving while you said them. But, it wasn’t you. You didn’t believe them. They loved you as much as you loved them, you were sure of it. It didn’t matter if you were an angel, human, or demon.

“That would never happen.”

Your heart melted as Satan spoke up, reconfirming your words. You reached out to touch him and then realized you couldn’t. You had to get out of here. 

“Let’s see what happens when you’re tested.”

Your blood ran cold at the words. Someone had taken over your body and intended to use it to hurt everyone. You couldn’t let that happen. You wouldn’t let that happen. You weren’t sure how, but you would find some way out. You find some way to fight and take your body back. No matter the cost.

_______________

It was starting to make sense now. Everyone was still alive because you were fighting back. You were putting every ounce of your energy into regaining control and it was hindering your abilities. There was a war going on inside your body and it was being put under extreme stress as it tried to contain both you and the being. 

As you got weaker, the walls of the labyrinth began crumbling down. The being was losing what strength it had to keep them up. The unnecessary rooms and hallways began to collapse; and soon, the holding rooms went along with it. 

When the rumbling from the walls crashing down stopped, everyone stood there together. A mix of confusion and relief washed over their features as they were finally freed from their captivity. But, who was the one who brought down the walls?

They looked at each other, all fourteen of them silently asking the same question. None of them were providing an answer though. “Lucifer, did you-?” Asmo began to ask but was cut off when Lucifer shook his head no. “It wasn’t me,” Lucifer replied.

“Satan?” Solomon asked, turning towards the Avatar of Wrath. He was good enough at curses that it was believable. There was a small frown on his face as Satan replied, “I tried, but nothing I did worked. This was someone else.”

Barbatos and Solomon had already been rendered powerless when it came to the videogame and after Diavolo and Simeon both denied playing a part in the walls crumbling down, that left them with only one answer. The one person they couldn’t see - you.

“So, they’re still alive,” Levi said, an immense weight lifted off his shoulders. He was afraid that after failing to kill them, the being would go after you. 

“We need to get to them,” Diavolo stated. Everyone agreed, ready to fight an army off if it meant saving you.

They raced through the hallways, easily finding the right path as the others were reduced to rubble. They reached the room and entered, stopping when they finally saw you. 

You stood in front of them, holding a weapon in one hand while your other hand clutched your forehead. You were turned away from them, not moving. From where they stood they could see that something was wrong.

“Y/N!” Mammon shouted, taking a step forward. Your eyes snapped open, clutching your weapon tighter. The being was inside of you and it had your memories. It knew everything about you; and, you had given them an idea.

“Stay.”

You smiled as all seven demon brothers froze in their spots and you used whatever magic you had left to stop the rest of them. The being was tired of waiting. They were tired of them trying to escape; and, they were tired of you fighting back. They were going to end this now.

_______________

You watched in horror as all of your friends were frozen in place. The being was going to kill them. You were going to have to watch them plunge their weapon into each one of their hearts as you sat there and watched.

The being began walking towards the brothers first and your heart nearly stopped. Just the thought of watching any of them die was overwhelming you with sadness. This couldn’t be happening. 

You watched as the being raised the hand with the weapon, readying it for the first attack. 

“No.”

This was your body and you weren’t going to let it happen. You took a deep breath and mustered everything you had left. You didn’t care if it killed you, as long as it saved them. You put everything you had into gaining control.

_______________

The brothers watched as you came closer and closer, your weapon ready to strike the first of them down. Your eyes were filled with malice as you wore a smile. The being had won. They weren’t strong enough.

You moved to attack as the others looked on in panic. But, you faltered. Your eyes - they were no longer filled with malice but with sorrow. Your arm was frozen in the air and the brothers could see the internal struggle you were going through. 

In a flash, you had plunged the weapon that was intended for them into yourself. Everyone watched in horror as you let out a painful gasp, blood pouring from the wound. Their eyes were wide as they watched you stumble to the ground. 

Tears filled their eyes as some of them let out shouts of pain. You were dying in front of them and they couldn’t run to you. They couldn’t help you. They couldn’t save you. 

You took your final breaths, looking up at the ceiling. It was finally over. You did it. You had killed the being and you were now in your own body, feeling everything as you bled out. You wondered if this was really the end or if you would wake up outside of the videogame. Then everything faded white.

*

Tears stained everyone’s cheeks as they exited the videogame. It was all fake right, you weren’t - you couldn’t be dead. They woke up in the cafeteria and they immediately scanned the area for you. But you weren’t there - at least, you weren’t standing there.

They immediately scattered, looking around the cafeteria for you. Belphie and Beel were the first to find you. Your body was on the ground, your eyes closed. Their hearts dropped for a moment as Belphie called, “Over here.” They were too scared to approach you. Too scared to find out you were really dead.

Mammon was the first to reach you, pulling you into his lap. “Please don’t be dead,” he whispered as he gently cradled you. Satan was the next to come, crouching down next to you, and gently placing his fingers on the side of your neck. 

He held his breath until he felt your steady pulse beating against his fingers. He let out a breath of relief and locked eyes with Mammon for a moment before announcing to everyone else, “She’s alive.”

After finding out you were alive, the group decided to move you to your room so you would be more comfortable as you rested.

Lucifer told the others that he would be the one to watch over you as you slept. He wanted - needed - to be there.

When the others left the room, he finally let his calm image fade away. He sat down next to you on the bed as his true emotions began to show themselves. His eyes were filled with sorrow as he took your hand in his. 

Lucifer had been genuinely terrified in that video game. He wasn’t scared of dying himself. But, watching you die before his eyes was something he couldn’t handle. As he watched the life leave you, flashbacks of your time together ran through his mind. He realized just how much he loved you and how he couldn’t live without you.

He turned your arm over and placed his fingers on your wrist. He wanted to feel your pulse himself. The tension in his shoulders was slightly relieved when he felt it beat underneath his fingers. You were alive. 

Lucifer’s eyes were trained on your wrist, willing himself to focus on the feeling of you being alive rather than letting the terrible thoughts he had take over. He couldn’t afford to fall apart. He needed to be here for you.

You let out a small groan as your eyes fluttered open. Lucifer turned his attention to watching your face when you began to stir. He felt like he couldn’t breathe as your eyes locked with his. Your eyebrows knitted together for a moment as you asked, “Lucifer?”

Lucifer couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. You were awake. You were talking. Lucifer gripped your hand in his even tighter, willing himself to say something. To say anything, but he was torn.

He wanted to apologize a hundred times over for not being there to protect you. He wanted to thank you for saving their lives; but, he also wanted to scold you for endangering your own. And more than anything, he wanted to tell you how much he loved you.

He wanted to pull you into his arms and hold you close to him as he told you over and over again. But, his body refused to move and his mouth refused to speak, the shock of everything that had happened finally taking effect.

You could see the internal conflict Lucifer was going through, and you gently placed your hand on his cheek. He immediately leaned into your touch, allowing himself to be vulnerable in front of you.

He gently curled his fingers around your wrist, keeping you from moving. This is what he needed to assure himself that you were okay. You knew he needed this. He needed a moment where he could let his feelings show without having to portray a perfect image.

“So, when does the lecture start?” you asked after a moment. Lucifer let out a small chuckle, shifting in the bed to be even closer to you. “Tomorrow. I want you to be well-rested for it,” he replied and you smiled in response. Rest.

You hated the idea of it, afraid to fall asleep after everything that had happened. You wanted to stay awake so you could ensure you were in control of your body. But you knew it was impossible to stay awake forever.

“Would you stay with me tonight?” you asked Lucifer, and he could see the hint of fear in your eyes. He agreed in an instant, hoping you would ask him that because the truth was he didn’t want to leave you.

He got comfortable in the bed with you, holding you close. He promised himself he would always be there in the future to ensure you never got hurt again.

Mammon was a wreck. He had been a wreck since the moment he found out something was possessing your body. He blamed it on himself more than anything. He saw you get your first headache and he brushed it off. He told you he would protect you and then didn’t do anything to help.

How could he have been so careless? How could he have let this happen? He was sure his brothers didn’t want to leave him alone with you. If something happened, he probably wouldn’t be able to help. But, he refused to leave your side. His human was hurt and he was going to be there every second until you were better.

He sat down beside the bed on a chair. He leaned forward, resting his arm on the bed and placing his head on top of it so that he could watch you as you rested. He interlaced his other hand with yours, thankful when he felt it was warm and not cold.

“Please wake up,” he whispered. He hadn’t stopped whispering that phrase since his brothers left him alone with you. It was as if he believed it was a chant that would take effect if he repeated it enough. 

He just wanted you to open your eyes. He wanted to know that you were there with him and not some being. He already knew the image of you being possessed was one that would haunt him at night, ensuring his dreams were only nightmares. But, he would endure them, as long as when he woke up it was to the real you.

You let out a small gasp as your eyes shot open. Mammon immediately sat up at the noise and watched you intently. You blinked a few times, trying to understand where you were. Mammon was frozen in shock for a moment that you were actually awake. But, as soon as he saw you begin to blink, his arms flew around you, pulling you into a hug. 

You let out a small startled noise but relaxed when you realized who it was. “I’m sorry,” he said barely above a whisper as he pulled away. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion and he told you, “I’m sorry I didn’t protect ya’. It was my job as you’re first, and-.”

You could tell Mammon was about to go into a long ramble and you stopped him by gently placing your finger against his lips to shush him. His eyes were wide as he looked at you. You were looking at him with the same love and adoration you always had and he memorized the way your eyes looked. The kindness in them replacing the images of when they held hatred towards him.

“There was nothing you could have done, Mammon. What’s important is that we’re both here and we’re both okay,” you told him. You then gently pulled him into the bed with you and he let you. He would do anything and everything you wanted him to.

He laid down in the bed and you laid on his shoulder, placing one arm over him. You could hear his heart racing and you could see him trying to hide the blush he had. You leaned forward and placed a kiss on his jaw. He was flustered, but he willed himself to not freak out. Even if he would never voice it, he wanted to be here with you and he wasn’t going to let his tsundere tendencies keep him from taking care of you.

As you laid next to him, Mammon’s mind couldn’t help but go back to the video game and the dream that the being put him in. He didn’t need the casino or all the winnings. You were enough. He knew that as long as he had you, he wouldn’t need anything else. 

Levi was panicking as he waited for you to wake up. His brothers were all incredibly mad at him for what happened. It was his fault after all that they all winded up in the video game. It was his fault that you got hurt.

Lucifer wanted to send him to his room right away, but for once, Levi put his foot down. He was terrified of the consequences, but he wasn’t going to leave your side. He felt guilty for everything that had happened and needed to make sure you were okay himself.

Lucifer hated being defied by anyone; but, the fact that it was Levi who did it surprised him. He could see how much this meant to his brother so he allowed him to stay with you until you woke up. Then he would be properly punished.

But as he was sitting in the room with you, Levi was beginning to regret his decision. He started to think that it would have been better if he had just gone to his room and locked himself away forever. 

You probably hated him. You had just been trying to help Diavolo with the event. Instead, you wound up in a video game and got hurt. Why didn’t he read the instructions? He should have known from previous experiences. He had just been so excited.

He began to pace the room as his insecurities built up inside him more and more. Would you be mad if you saw him there when you woke up? He just wanted to be there for you, but would you even let him after what happened? Maybe it would be better if he just left and asked one of his brothers to stay with you.

Just as he was debating if he should leave or not, your voice suddenly pulled him from his thoughts. “Levi?” you asked. He jumped slightly as he turned to face the bed. You were awake? When did that happen?

“Y/N,” Levi began, racing to the bed and sitting down next to you. “I’m so sorry for everything that happened,” he said, a frown on his lips. “It’s not your fault, Levi. I wanted to play the game too,” you replied. 

You could see how surprised he was at your answer. Had he been expecting you to wake up and yell at him? You decided to try and help reassure him further by telling him, “I’m glad you’re here, Levi.”

Now, he was shocked. “You…are?” he asked. You nodded your head giving him a small smile and a +blush coated his cheeks. His thoughts immediately shifted from self-deprecation to what he could do to make you feel better.

“Do you want to watch an anime? Or I could read you some manga? Or I could play a game for you- a NON-horror game,” Levi suggested, his mind thinking back to the things he saw in his dream. He was hoping you would still want to do any of those things with him. 

“Sure, Levi,”  you replied with a smile, and before you could even tell him what you wanted to do, he disappeared. He ran to his room to grab everything he could. He wanted to bring you everything you could want to do. He wanted to do anything he could to make you happy.

Satan let out a small sigh as he looked over your features. He placed his hand on your neck once again, feeling your pulse. It had been the twentieth time in the last hour that he had done it, but after what he saw in the labyrinth, he didn’t want to take any chances. 

He sent a longing look to the books on the ground next to him. He had brought them from his room, determined not to leave your side until you were awake. But, he couldn’t bring himself to read any of them. 

Every time he reached for one, he was reminded of the fake world the being put him in and his heart was filled with sadness as his eyes went back to your sleeping form. He needed you to be okay.

He watched you touch the orb on the wall. Why didn’t he stop you? He knew you were in a horror game. He knew danger could be lurking around any corner, so why did he just stand by and idly watch as you endangered yourself?

He had already moved from sitting next to the bed in a chair to sitting on the bed right next to you. But, now even this spot wasn’t enough for him. He gently shifted your body in the bed before picking your head up and placing it in his lap. 

He looked down at you and cupped your cheek before gently rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone. He studied every single one of your features, noticing how different they looked now that your body was free from the evil spirit.

Your skin tone was warm and there was a slight pink to your cheeks, making you look healthy and alive. Your eyes, even though they were closed, looked peaceful; and, even your lips looked softer. He spent an extra second looking at them, remembering the kiss you gave him in his dream.

Your eyes suddenly fluttered open, meeting his green ones. You furrowed your eyebrows slightly, confused as to how you got here and Satan understood. “When you-,” he began, but he couldn’t say the words. He hated the image they brought of what happened in the labyrinth.

“When the game ended, we were all transported back to the Devildom. You were still asleep so we brought you to your room,” he explained. “I remember what you said,” you told him and now it was Satan’s turn to look confused.

“I could still see and hear everything, and I heard you tell it - well, me - that you would never turn on me,” you stated. Satan nodded his head and replied, “I meant it.” “I know, I believe you,” you responded with a small smile.

There was a moment of silence and you asked, “Would you read to me?” Satan was slightly surprised by the question but excited nonetheless. You handed him one of the books from the ground and he pulled you further into his lap. 

Your head rested in the crook of his neck as his arms wrapped around you, his deep voice bringing the words on the pages to life. You were beginning to fall asleep when you said, “I remember the dream too, you know.”

Satan froze, a blush rising to his cheeks. “You saw that?” he asked, his heart now racing. You nodded your head before telling him, “It’s nice.” Satan suddenly realized that the current scenario the two of you were in mimicked the dream, except it was real. Satan smiled to himself, pulling you closer. He never wanted to let you go.

Asmo not only refused to leave your side, he refused to leave the bed. He wanted to be as close to you as he could. So, as soon as they laid your body in the bed, he climbed in right alongside you. The others protested at first, but when they realized Asmo wasn’t going to move, they left. 

As soon as they were gone, Asmo was doing everything he could to wake you up. He pulled you into a hug, whispering things into your ear to try and get you to wake up. When that didn’t work, he gently stroked your hair. Then he moved to trying to kiss your nose and your cheeks and your forehead. But at the end of it all, you still stayed asleep.

Asmo let out a sigh when you didn’t stir and worry filled every inch of his features. Why wouldn’t you wake up? He knew at this rate he was going to get worry lines, but for the first time, he didn’t care. 

You had protected them. You sacrificed yourself to save them. He watched as you bled out in front of them. None of them were able to do anything about it. And, it was killing him. The memory of you dying was driving him crazy and he needed you to wake up and erase it. 

He pulled you into him. Your forehead was pressed against his chest as his head rested on top of yours. The smell of his perfume overwhelmed your senses, causing you to stir slightly as your eyes fluttered open to find out what that amazing scent was.

When you opened your eyes, you saw that you were point blank with someone’s chest and there was only one person you knew who had that perfume.

“Asmo?” you questioned. Did he just hear you say his name? Asmo immediately pulled back so that he could look at you. He gently cradled your head as his eyes met with yours. His heart immediately swelled with joy.

“You’re awake!” he said happily, peppering even more kisses on your face. “You scared me,” he told you after a few more kisses. “I’m sorry,” you replied and Asmo shook his head. “Don’t apologize! I’m the one who should be saying sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t notice what was going on sooner, and thank you for saving us,” he replied.

“You’re too pretty to kill,” you teased and Asmo smiled at you. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, and you noticed him holding back from something. “What is it?” you asked him. Asmo hesitated for a moment before speaking what was on his mind. 

“Possessed or not, if you ever proposition me like that again Y/N, I won’t be able to hold back next time,” Asmo told you, giving you a charming and innocent smile. You immediately blushed at his words, hiding your face in his chest and he pulled you further into him, enjoying the feeling of your touch.

It was true that his mind had been running rampant with images since that moment in the labyrinth. But, the important thing was that you were there with him. He had a chance at creating the happiness he had gotten a glimpse of with you, and he was going to do everything in his power to make it a reality.

Beel was starving to death, but his sadness was outweighing the pain. His brothers were surprised when Beel asked to stay behind with you instead of going to get food. He hadn’t eaten all day and they could hear his stomach let out inhumane growls.

But after watching you die in front of him in the video game, he couldn’t imagine something happening to you while he was eating. He needed to be here with you.

Belphie took sympathy on his brother, bringing him some food, but he knew it wasn’t enough to satiate his hunger. He would have to leave at some point or it wouldn’t be good for anyone. Belphie tried to tell Beel this, but Beel ignored him. He wasn’t leaving. 

He was the first one to notice when you got your headache. He should have said something to the others. Mammon had been there too, but he didn’t take it seriously. So, Beel thought it would be okay. 

It was just like when he heard the banshee scream before Lilith died. He saw the signs - he got a warning before something bad happened. But, he didn’t do anything about it. And because of that, he had to watch you die in front of him - just like Lilith did.

Tears streamed down Beel’s cheeks as he watched you sleep. Satan told him you would wake up, but he wouldn’t believe it until you opened your eyes. Until you could talk to him and tell him you were okay. Until you could hug him back.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn’t hear a quiet voice ask, “Beel?” You had woken up to the large demon sitting on the bed next to you, staring at you. You tried calling out to him, but he was completely zoned out.

“Beel?” you asked again, a bit louder. This time he heard you and he snapped out of his thoughts, his eyes widening when he saw you staring at him. You could see how worried he had been and the streaks where the tears had fallen. You gave him a small smile before saying, “I’m okay.”

The crushing pressure Beel had been feeling was immediately released as you said the words he needed you to say. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. Suddenly, a large growl filled the silence of the room.

You stared at Beel for a moment before asking, “Do you want to go get some food?” His eyes lit up as he carefully scooped you into his arms. He brought you into the kitchen carefully setting you down. His brothers had been nice enough to leave him all of their leftovers so the prep time was short.

You rested against Beel as he ate a tremendous amount of food. You knew he didn’t want to part from you, but he needed to eat so this seemed like the best option. When he was finally done he brought you back up to your room and decided to stay with you for the rest of the night.

He made sure to touch you every so often. He would hold your hand, or stroke your cheek. He would hug you or run his fingers through your hair. Anything he could do to remind himself that you were real.

Watching you die hit Belphie hard. The last time he watched as the life drained out of your body, it was by his hands; and the dark memories haven’t left him alone since the video game ended. He hated himself for hurting you. He did everything he could to move past it, but the events that happened that day made it hard for him to forget.

After he grew to know you, he swore he would never let harm come to you again. But, he broke that promise. He didn’t stop you from getting taken over, and he didn’t stop you from sacrificing yourself to save them. Why did you do it? Did you love them all that much?

Belphie had been sitting in a chair next to the bed for a while but grew tired of it. He moved to the bed, lying down next to you. He laid facing you, listening to each breath you took. “I thought napping was my thing,” he told you with a small smirk, waiting for you to come back with some snarky comment.

His face fell when he realized you weren’t going to respond. His mind flashed back to the fabricated world. A world in which you wanted to be with him and only him. A world in which the two of you were going to go into an eternal slumber so that you could be together forever.

“You weren’t supposed to fall asleep without me,” Belphie stated, moving closer to you. He laid his head on you wrapping his arms around you to pull you closer. “I don’t want to fall asleep if it’s not with you,” he whispered. It was a small confession of his love for you, but he was hoping it would be enough to stir you awake.

You mumbled something incoherent and Belphie moved his head up to stare at you. Did he imagine that? You mumbled once more, turning towards Belphie. You opened your eyes and a slight blush coated your cheeks as your face was only a couple of inches from his.

Belphie smiled as he saw you looking at him. “Good morning,” you muttered with a sleepy smile. Belphie touched his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. “You’re not allowed to leave me ever again,” Belphie stated, his arms tightening around you.

You nodded your head and told him, “I won’t.” Belphie let out a content sigh at your words and in an instant, shifted positions so that he was lying on top of you, cuddling into you. “Belphie? What are you doing?” you asked him, gently running your fingers through his hair.

“You got your nap in. Now I’m getting mine,” he replied with a cheeky smile. The truth was he just wanted to be close to you. To hear your heartbeat as his head was pressed to your chest. He could stay like this forever, with the two of you holding each other.

[chaoticnezz]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~You hummed a familiar tune that you had heard one day on your walk to the store. You let a small huff of relief slip between your lips. 'im glad that nobody's here.'

Earlier their was a fight in the hallway, as you were going to the music to enjoy your free period you had got caught in the crowd. You had barely managed to slip through into a quieter hallway.

The bad news was that this was an unknown hallway to you, sure you've been going here for about a year and a half, but this school was huge so you haven't seen all of it.

You felt your fingers move along the groves of the wall, As you tried to find someone to ask for direction to hallway 1-C. As you walked further down the hall you heard a frustrated grunt followed by the sound of paper being crumbled.

You followed the sound, letting curiosity get the best of you. Stoping at a partially cracked door, you gently opened the door and steeping inside the room.

A head snapped in your direction. Your e/c eyes Locked with a pair of teal eyes. You examined the stranger, he had red hair with some teal tips sprinkled around, accompanied by teal eyes.

You inhaled a small puff of air. "I'm sorry for disrupting you." The strangers glare softened. "It's alright, so what brings you to the art room."

He set down the pencil that you now realized that he was holding. "I heard paper being crumpled, and I'm also kinda lost." The strangers face relaxed Even more as he let a small snicker escape his lips.

"Really? Well where do you need to go I could show you the way." The tips of your ears had turned a bit red (or whatever color you have for blush.) From being laughed at.

"Well I need to go to the music room." "Alright I'll show you the way, my name's sora M by the way." "Well Sora I'm Y/n L/n."

Sora stood up from his seat at the desk. You now realized that Sora was a good foot or so taller then you. Sora walked out of the now opened door.

As the two of you walked down the school halls a question lingered in you mind. "Why exactly were you crumpling up paper.

"Well I was struggling to draw one of my model photos." Sora let out a sigh as he rubbed the back of his head. "Oh, well maybe you just need a new model."

"Maybe your right thanks for the help Y/n." The two of you began to continue down the halls in silence. The silence would have been nice if their wasn't this weird feeling crawling up your spine.

That feeling never disappeared even after a couple of weeks.

But here you were waiting in the art room for Sora. He asked you to help him with his art project. The doors soon slid open and soon in came Sora.

"Sorry I'm a bit late I had to stay after class to help a teacher." "It's alright, so what did you want me to help you with."

"Well I need someone to model for me but." "But what?" You hoped off the windowsill and stared at Sora, pure curiosity filled your eyes.

"I'd rather have someone to keep me company forever." "What" you backed away from Sora not liking how his tone of voice changed.

Sora stepped closer to you each time you took a step back. And soon you were backed into a corner. You began to throw punches and kicks trying to keep Sora away from you.

"I don't like violence, angel please don't make me do this." That was the last thing you heard before getting knocked unconscious.

[r0tting-rat]

DCA PROMPTOBER 2024

I might have decided to join last minute (I say after finishing crying my eyes out) cuz I'm very brave and confident (I'm not.) I know it's late for day 1 but pls gimme a break :<

Day 1 - Best Friend!

Pairing: Sun & Gender Neutral Reader, can be seen as both platonic and romantic! Warnings: None Words: 1900+ Summary: It's a special day, and you're in for a treat!

Like many other days, you couldn’t understand Sun’s enthusiasm. The daycare attendant had scooped you up the moment you stepped foot in the daycare with your cleaning cart—as you always did every night before closing—then hugged you so tightly you feared for your ribs. As usual, he began to ask you questions about your day, asking if you had eaten anything new or if you had any new pics of your pet to show him, but he completely threw you off guard when he proceeded to beg you to put on a blindfold and follow him out of the daycare, which you refused with a decisive shake of the head. 

-Nuh-uh,- you replied.

-What do you mean “nuh-uh”?!- Sun crumbled to the floor, on his knees, with his hands joined together in prayer and his big, milky eyes staring at you in despair. 

-I mean nuh-uh! I’m not coming with you, not yet at least.- You waved your cleaning rug in front of his face, pretending to wash dirt off his flat head. -I have a job to do! Remember?-

Your “job” consisted of slipping inside the pizzaplex after everyone had left, cleaning off all the gunk children and adults alike left on tables and inside the attractions, then slipping back out before closing time. Very simple, very stressful and equally tiring. You were one of many, your assigned areas were the Daycare and Monty Golf, but the former always took you more time to clean despite having less work to do. The reason behind that? The animatronic before you. You had befriended the daycare attendant, a few weeks before, mainly because you pitied him. Always so lonely, left with nothing to do, with no children to care for and no friends to play with. You didn’t regret becoming his friend, not at all, but it was true that you always spent much more time with the robot than you should have. “Do not talk with the animatronics” was kinda company policy. 

Okay, fine, maybe it wasn’t, but your employment contract did say to not stand too close to the robots and interact with them as little as possible, so you were breaking the rules just the tiniest bit, by letting Sun pick you up, hug you, spin you around and etcetera.

Letting yourself be blindfolded and dragged around was way too much though.

-Friend, please! All you actually have to clean is the security desk!- Sun protested, pouting like a child. He was right. The sunny jester was a bit of a cleaning freak, so he always did all the work for you by scrubbing and tidying the entire play area by the time it took you to finish with Monty Golf, leaving you to clean just the area he didn’t have access to.

You crossed your arms over your chest, indecisive. You didn’t want to be blindfolded, at all, and not because you didn’t trust Sun, the idea of it simply made your skin itch. 

…Shit, but he looked so sad! Oh, curse you and your kind heart! With a sigh, you relented, finally giving the jester a small nod. 

-Okay, I’ll come with you,- you agreed, and Sun literally jumped in the air, as bright as his namesake. 

-Yes!- he shouted, ecstatic.

-But,- you were quick to interrupt him, -You let me clean the desk first. Deal?-

You offered Sun one of your hands, which he shook with so much passion your entire body trembled. All the while, a wide grin had opened on his flat, yellow face. 

-I can’t wait to show you my surprise!- he smiled.

You did the best you could to clean efficiently the security desk of the daycare, cleaning coffee stains, peeling away dried pieces of Chica’s Special & Super Elastic Bubble Gum from under the desk and chairs, throwing away pieces of papers and emptying bins, but to your big surprise you found yourself hurrying to get it done. Were you doing that because you were actually kind of curious of what Sun’s surprise could be, or because you wanted to go home as soon as possible? Maybe both, maybe neither. Who could say? Anyway, you finished with your job faster than usual, satisfied, but the moment you turned around all the color drained from your face. 

Sun had twisted himself in some kind of pretzel-like knot, tangling his limbs and lanky body together to create something which reminded you of a horrifying piece of modern art, but as soon as he noticed you looking at him Sun untwisted himself, returning to his usual height and shape. 

-All done, Friend?- he asked, excitedly, as you struggled to get your heart to start beating again. It wasn’t the first time Sun had done something like that, the animatronic liked to get into weird positions when he felt bored, but each time you caught him like that your heart froze. Sun was a very, very, pricey robot and you were constantly scared of management putting you at fault if something were to ever happen to him. Also, you were his friend, and you couldn’t let something bad happen to someone who was so precious—did I mention pricey?—to you.

-Uh, yes, all done,- you nodded, shaking your head to get rid of the bad thoughts, -We can proceed with the… Do you really have to blindfold me?-

At your question Sun nodded eagerly, stepping close as he took a red ribbon out of his pocket. You sighed but didn’t fight him as he began to place the ribbon over your eyes, making sure it was not too tight but tied firmly enough to not allow you to peek. Once he was done, you heard Sun giggle in delight, looking at his magnificent job.

-Wait,- you heard him say, -Something is missing!-

Before you could protest you heard the animatronic scurry off, leaving you in the dark with no reference points, confused and a little scared. You attempted to take a step forward but were quickly stopped by Sun immediately coming back. 

-Here!- he announced, grabbing one of your hands and turning your palm up, so you could hold something that resembled a box for him. You gently shook it and heard many small, plastic things moving inside of it. 

-Are those…?- you began to ask, even more perplexed than before. 

-Yep!- Sun replied, carefully attaching something to your blindfold, one over each of your eyes. -Googly eyes!- 

You wanted to collapse on the floor and stay there, becoming one with the colorful mats of the daycare, but instead you groaned and stood still, allowing the robot to have his fun.

-Can we just go? I don’t have all day, Sun,- you protested, and finally the jester put the little box away, grabbed one of your hands and began to lead you to the large wooden doors of the daycare, walking slowly and carefully.

-We’re gonna have so much fun, Friend,- Sun said, gleefully. You could almost see his beaming smile, ever the bright, despite the blindfold over your eyes. -I’ve made sure everything is simply perfect!-

Despite how tired you were of Sun’s constant cheerfulness, you couldn’t say he didn’t have any effect on you. In fact, you had been smiling a lot more during the last few days. even your coworkers had noticed your good mood. Just staying with Sun was enough to make you smile and laugh, his presence was good for your mental and physical health. In fact, the robot had been taking care of you whenever he noticed that you hadn’t eaten yet, and for some reason he always knew. You were beginning to think he could read your biometrics data. 

You didn’t walk for too much time, in fact you could almost guess where you were headed, which was probably one of the party rooms around the daycare. You decided to stay silent, just to see what Sun would do, and giggled when you felt the hand you were holding begin to vibrate in excitement. Having a robot for a friend was truly fun, sometimes.

-Almost there, Friend!- Sun told you as he began to open one of the doors to the rooms, careful to turn on the lights before entering—why did he always do that, anyway? Sun always refused to tell you where his fear of the dark came from, but seeing how uncomfortable the topic made him you had long stopped asking him about it. -Here, sit.- 

He guided you to a chair, where you gratefully sat, still obediently keeping your googly eyes-adorned blindfold on. You were eager to see the surprise Sun had planned for you, but something told you not to even try to peek. You felt like it would have made the robot rather mad. 

Sun moved something on the table in front of you, mumbling by himself, then stood back. You heard his steps coming to a stop behind your chair, then felt his hands resting on your shoulders. The cold touch of his metal body made you shiver. 

-You can look now, Friend,- Sun whispered in your ear, lacking the previous joy and sounding more… sly?

Excited to see, you quickly took off the blindfold and blinked, trying to readjust to the lights inside the room, and only after a few moments of total confusion you managed to see something. Before you, on the table, was a plate, and on the plate was a huge cupcake of your favorite flavor. You would have recognized those sweet treats everywhere, they were from the Cupcake Shoppe, on the second floor of the pizzaplex. Many times you had passed the area, looking with envy at the baked sweets being sold there, and even more times you had complained to Sun about the bakery not being on the list of places where you could eat your daily free meal, as per your employment contract. When he had asked you why you didn’t just go and buy one, if you really wanted to, you had laughed. 

“-Come on, as good as they look, they are not worth the price.-” You had told him. Yet there it was, the motherfucking cupcake you had been ogling at for the last weeks, right in front of you, with a little candle stuck on top. 

-I would have lit the candle, if my programming didn’t forbid me from handling matches and lighters,- laughed Sun from behind you. Honestly, you didn’t care one bit about the candle, you were just staring at the sweet treat in front of you, dumbfounded. 

-Wh… Why…? How… I…- You couldn’t speak normally anymore, your vocabulary consisted of single muttered words and syllables. 

-Guess what day it is, Friend,- cooed Sun in your ear. You tried to think, but doing so was hard, so you ended up just shaking your head, speechless. At your cluelessness, Sun laughed. 

-On this day, exactly one month ago, we became friends!- he explained to you, and as he bent over his smiling face entered your field of vision. He looked absolutely gleeful. -Do you remember now?-

Your wide eyes ran from his milky ones to the cupcake in front of you, from the big grin of the robot to the unlit candle, which was slowly slipping down thanks to the melting frosting. One month. You had been friends with Sun for just a month, but for some reason it felt like so much more, like, much, much more. Sun’s hands, which had been resting on your shoulders the entire time, squeezed you gently, and they felt oddly warm against your skin. You looked at the daycare attendant and couldn’t stop a smile from forming on your lips. 

-Happy one month anniversary, Best friend,- he said, and you nodded. 

-Happy anniversary to you too, Sun.- 

[mochiwrites]

For the ask game/prompt, mayhaps #1 with Scarian? Could be in canon, one of your AUs, or any other AU you think of lol, no preference ☺️

01. Touch starved/cuddle curse (put that guy in a situation!)

reblogs do more than likes!

"How in the world have you managed this, Scar?!" Grian's indignant voice exclaims, echoing in the small space of Scar's train car. The avian looks down at the man currently pouting at him, a sheepish expression on his face.

"I-I don't know! Joel just gave me this potion thingy and -- and said it would be good for bonding with cOW!" As he speaks, he makes a grabbing motion for Grian, his pout morphing into a pleading look.

Grian pointedly takes a step back from Scar's outreaching arms, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Trusting Joel was your first mistake," he mumbles, sucking in a breath.

"He's a trustworthy fellow!" Scar retorts, "Besides, I don't see what's so bad about this arrangement... all I want to do is cuddle with you."

"That's exactly the problem, Scar!" The feathers of Grian's wings fluff up as he stares at his husband with a firm look. "I have building I have to do! Shops to set up, permits to not do! I also promised Gem I'd help her out with something in a few hours. I can't just stay here with you all day."

Scar's pleading expression only becomes stronger, his green eyes looking shiny as he stares up at Grian from where he sits on his head. "Please, lovebird? Just for a little bit?" He makes another grabbing motion for Grian, who finds his resolve rapidly crumbling the longer he looks at Scar.

"Nuh uh mister, I know exactly how this sort of thing goes. We both know it won't just be 'for a little bit,'" he answers. Grian's making any desperate attempts at keeping his denial firm.

But... he could just tell Gem he'd be around tomorrow. And it's not like the Permit Office is really ever open. They're only sometimes there to help anyway. And he still hasn't come up with any ideas for his mushroom stem shop.

"I promise this time I'll stick to it! Only a few hours, I swear on my hat!" Scar exclaims, eagerly nodding.

"Where have I heard that one before," Grian mumbles under his breath, fondness written into each and every word. He lets out a little sigh, "Alright, alright, fine. But only for a few hours! Let's hope this... cuddle affliction has run its course by then."

He takes a step toward Scar, and the moment he's close enough, a hand jumps out to grab hold of his wrist. Grian yelps as he's pulled right into Scar's lap, arms slinging around his waist. He steadies himself by gripping Scar's shoulders, finding the love of his life grinning at him.

"You should know I always want to cuddle with you." Scar shoots him a cheeky little wink, making Grian roll his eyes, a small smile upon his lips. "You just fit in my arms so perfectly!"

"Maybe that's just because you're a giant," Grian huffs, getting settled in Scar's hold. He moves to lay his head on Scar's shoulder, tucking it within the crook of his neck. "You're like one big teddy bear."

Scar squeezes him lightly, one of his hands moving to rest against the small of his back, right in between his feathers. The contact leaves Grian melting right into him with a content noise. "Am I a cute teddy bear?"

Grian snorts at him.

"It's the most important question I've ever asked you next to proposing, Grian!" Scar gasps in return, a serious look in his eyes. His green eyes sparkle with mirth, and pressed against him like this, Grian can feel the way his chest rumbles with hidden laughter. "I have to know if I'm a cute teddy bear!"

"Yes Scar," Grian sighs fondly, pulling back to hold the man's face in his hands, "you're a very cute teddy bear." He accentuates his response with a kiss to Scar's nose, "Although Jellie is cuter."

Scar makes some kind of ecstatic noise, pulling Grian down into bed as he rolls onto his side. Grian squawks at the sudden action, just narrowly avoiding his wings getting squished. "But of course! No one is cuter than Jellie. You come in a close second place though."

If it were anyone but Jellie, Grian would have complained.

Instead, he snuggles in close to Scar, wrapping a wing around him as they fall into a comfortable silence. Scar's arms are secure around him, and Grian thinks he'd be fine with laying here all day, wrapped in his husband's arms.

"Remember Scar, only for a few hours."

"Right, right! Only a few hours. Or until this cuddle curse goes away!"

(They go well over 'a few hours' together. Grian's communicator pings a few times, but it sounds almost silent over the pair's easy breaths as they sleep.)

[reyla-the-black-wolf]

My heart speaks for you (Part 2)

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

Pairing: Eris x f!reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: angsty fluff?, angst, hints of anxiety, anxiety attack, nightmare

Summary: Y/n is the youngest child of the High Lord of the Night Court and lives a slightly different life than the rest of her family. But what happens, when an unexpected visitor enters the stage and decides to completely change her life?

A/N: Hey guys! It took me a bit longer to write this chapter than I had planned to (accidentally deleted a part of the story ups) but finally did it! And I recommend you listen to "Remember that night" by Sara Kays and "The night we met" by Lord Huron.

Anyway, enjoy reading! 😙

Part 1 ⎮Part 2 ⎮Part 3⎮Part 4⎮

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Six days. Six days had passed since the incident in the conference room. Six tough days and not a single glimpse of him. No word, no letter, no message of any kind.

The water of the Sidra washed up on the shore in mesmerising waves, each time stealing a bit more of the glittering sand. Sunlight reflected off the mirrored surface, magically illuminating the facade of the River House. 

The hammock I sat in swayed gently in the afternoon breeze and, thanks to Elain, the sun didn´t bother me too much. My aunt had planted two Illyrian oaks in our garden the year I was born, providing shade now that they had grown from tiny sprouts into strong, sturdy trees. As I became older, I found my favourite reading spot underneath them. They stood a few feet from the River House and were the perfect place to relax and simply be. 

A piece of bark crumbled onto the pages of the book I was holding right now. `Feathers and Fire´ was written in large, ornate letters on the leather-bound cover. Nesta had borrowed me one of her novels to keep me company, as I had spent the last few days mostly by myself. 

I give up! After reading the same paragraph for the third time in a row, I finally slammed the book shut. I had really tried to concentrate on the story in the last hour, but my mind had drifted off more than once. And always back to the same place. 

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I was in shock. Or so I thought, as I couldn´t think clearly. My mind was racing and my heart was pounding so loudly that all of Velaris must´ve heard it.

Mate. Eris Vanserra was my mate. 

I couldn´t believe it. I mean, he doesn´t even know me?

The beige sofa under my legs felt too soft, as if it wanted to pull me into a hug and never let go. And the ticking clock on the opposite wall made my ears twitch in annoyance, so I decided to get up and pace around the living room, trying to quiet my mind. I was massaging my temples to ground myself a little when a soft touch stopped me in my tracks. Small, gentle fingers starting to trail along my shoulder in a soothing rhythm. 

„Sweetheart, look at me, please.“ My mother´s calm voice made me turn to her. „Everything´s going to be all right.“ She radiated pure love. „Whatever happens next, I want you to know you´re not alone. I´m here for you, okay, honey?“ It helped slow down my racing heart a little, but not enough. I sincerely hoped my father and his brothers hadn´t beaten Eris to death just out of anger. 

Just as I thought of them, three men winnowed into the living room. With long strides, my father rushed towards me, some of his darkness still clinging onto him, and cupped my face with both hands. „Darling, are you all right? Are you hurt? Do you need anything?“ He asked worriedly as he inspected me for any injuries, whatever he was looking for. 

I withdrew from his grasp, spun around once to show him I was fine, and put on my most reassuring smile to calm his worries, making his tensed muscles relax. „I´m so sorry. I never wanted you to see this.“ Regret seeped into his voice. „But…“ He paused, visibly struggling to find his next words. „Did the bond snap for you too?“ The question caught me entirely off guard, as I thought he was angry with me, trying to argue. I could almost feel my family holding their breath, dreading my answer. Silky hair fell around my face, casting tender shadows on my features as I shook my head. A quick glance at my parents and I knew they were having a silent conversation. Sweat formed on my palms as I unconsciously clenched my hand into a fist. With each passing second, an unpleasant feeling returned to my stomach, making me want to throw up.

It spread even further when my father turned his attention back to me, and my heart sank as I noticed the sudden change in his expression. A completely blank canvas. The mask of a High Lord. Others probably wouldn´t see through his masquerade of deceit. But I could. I did. I had studied his features over the years, every time he put it on. How his jaw tightened just an inch, noticeable only to the trained eye. How his eyes shimmered in a more vibrant shade of violet. I´d seen him in his role so many times that I´d learned to watch out for him. The real him. Not the High Lord, but my father. He kept his face sealed, but I could see what he hid behind that mask. Fury over Eris. His worry. But the strongest emotion was his love for me. 

„I want you to stay away from him. Or even talk to him.“ Someone had just knocked all the air out of my lungs and punched me in the guts. I hadn´t been braced for what was to come. My pulse skipped a beat and the blood in my veins began to boil. He can´t do this! Voices shouted in my head and a lump formed in the back of my throat. But why? I didn´t even know Eris, even though he was my mate. I shouldn´t be so disappointed. He is practically a stranger. 

At a loss for words, I stared at my parents. „We don´t want to make decisions about your life, but Eris is a... complicated man.“ my mother interjected. You mean dangerous. 

„Wait, Eris is your mate?“ I flinched and turned around, only to spot my brother hidden in the darkness with a shit-eating grin on his face. „Finally something interesting is happening.“ he chuckled, earning him a slap on the neck from Cass. „Hey!“ he cried out as my father shot him a warning glare before continuing his lecture. „Darling, listen. We only want to protect you and make sure you don´t get hurt. And Eris is not good company. He has proven that several times in the past. So please believe us when we tell you to stay away from him. We have our reasons.“ And what are they? A knot tightened in my stomach when I heard Azriel whispering from behind: „Especially after what he did to Mor.“

But he is my mate! Even if we don´t know each other well, don´t I have the right to figure out what´s happening between us? My mind screamed at me. Say something! Anything! You know you can! I forced my thoughts to shut down. We would not have this conversation now. Fight back! But I didn´t. I understood that my parents were trying to protect me. They were angry, no doubt, but with the love in their eyes, I couldn´t argue against them. 

So I only looked up and nodded, giving them a coy smile, even though it felt wrong. So terribly wrong. 

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This moment had been stuck in my head for the past few days. Although I´d agreed not to approach Eris, somehow I still hoped he would talk to me. Maybe to explain when and how the bond had snapped for him. 

Starlight? Az is waiting for you in the training ring.

Oh, right. I looked at the sun, which was already sinking deeper into the sky. Uncle Az had asked me yesterday if I wanted to train with him. We usually met at the same time every week to train, but over the last few days he had become more careful around me, giving me more space.

I quickly stowed the book away, not wanting Nesta to get upset if something happened to her beloved book. Changing into my fighting gear, I winnowed to meet Azriel. 

„Faster!“ Azriel shouted, lunging forward, but not fast enough. I sidestepped his punch to the right, and in the brief moment his defence was down, I landed three swift blows to his ribs. He groaned in pain and tried to sweep me off my feet in one smooth motion. Just as I was about to dive again, my back hit the sandy ground, Truthteller at my throat. A sweaty Azriel lay on top of me. 

He pulled me up, brushing the sand from my clothes. „That wasn´t too bad, but you´re less focused today.“ A questioning look crossed his face for a second as he looked down at me, then it returned to his usual straight expression.

I opened my mouth slightly as if to reply, but shrugged instead and walked towards the edge of the training ground, breathing heavily. Az only threw a knowing look in my direction. He knows. He knows how I feel. 

We had been training for about two hours and I didn´t know how my muscles were still able to keep me standing, but anyway, I was grateful for them when I winnowed us back to the River House for dinner. 

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After a quick shower, I now sat opposite to my brother at the wooden table eating dinner and it was truly a symphony for the senses. Wine glasses clinking. Knives scraping against plates. The aromatic scent of grilled steak and vegetables wafting through the room as my family engaged in a huge debate about who had the biggest wingspan. All I could do was smile at the silliness of it all and feel it seep into my soul. 

My father stroked my back lazily beside me, probably to keep calm, as Nyx started throwing peas across the table at Cassian, who dodged them. It really was ridiculous. „Seriously! A little decency, please!“ Amren hissed at this `display of strength´. Mor chuckled, „They´re Illyrians. Do you really think their egos would just ignore it if someone with bigger wings came along?“ My mother nearly choked on her wine at this comment, earning an amused look from her husband. „Can we all just calm down a little before the whole dining room is decorated with pieces of food?“ A quick, stern glance around the table from the High Lord and everyone resumed eating, interrupted now and then by a few giggles.

Ten minutes had passed, and the others had just finished chatting about upcoming events in Velaris, when Amren apparently decided to break the comfortable silence. „So y/n. Has anything been happening with the Autumn Heir lately?“ The wicked smirk on her face made her look like a cat that had caught a mouse to play with. All of a sudden, the room fell silent and everyone stopped eating. I felt my father stiffen beside me, his muscles tense. „Amren.“ Azriel warned, a low growl escaping his throat. „What? Just a sincere question.“ Not impressed by his threatening face. Not in the slightest.

Of course, the incident with Eris had spread around the River House throughout the last few days, fuelling rumours, but the others hadn´t said anything to me yet. I should have guessed that it was only a matter of time until the tension would blow up.

I think I might throw up. I certainly wasn´t in the mood to talk about it with my family. Not today. My blood froze as I gathered the strength to look into Amren´s cold, steely eyes, which were fixed directly on me. She didn´t even flinch when my father shot her a terrifying glare that would send shivers down your spine. 

Words began to flow into my mind, begging to be heard and a familiar feeling crept through my entire body, making my nerves go blank. It felt like I couldn´t breathe. 

„Are you all right, dear? You look a bit pale.“ she said, making me feel even more nauseous. „Amren, don´t.“ Everyone had stopped breathing by now. „You don´t have to answer her question, darling.“ My father´s hand darted out to graze my fingers, but I pulled back at the sensation. „You are his mate y/n, aren´t you? Must be desperate to know why.“ „Enough!“ Pure darkness collected in the corners of the dining room, ready to consume everything. I´d never seen my father so pissed off. „Why would you say such a thing?“ Mor uttered. „Exactly! She´s my sister, I´m the only one allowed to make fun of her!“, Nyx joined in. „I´m in the mood for some trouble.“ she responded honestly, taking a sip from her wine glass, completely untroubled. 

Everyone began to talk over each other, making it difficult to distinguish the individual voices. Tears welled up in my eyes as I covered my ears. The noise was becoming too much to bear. I sniffled, holding back a cry as I stood up and took a few steps away from the table. My chair scraped along the floor, causing everyone to turn around to me and all the shouting stopped. The tears began to trickle down my cheeks as my mother noticed them first, „Sweetheart, we´re so sorry.“ She stood up too. „We didn't mean to make you cry.“ Mor tried to reassure me, guilt clouding her voice. Everything felt too overwhelming. Leave. Walk away. Get out of this situation. 

„Starlight, come here. It´ll be fine.“ He took a few steps in my direction, but I quickly held my hand up in front of him to keep a distance between me and my father. 

„Y/n. Darling, we´re…“ But he stopped when I shook my head and scowled at him. Stared at all of them, anger written on my face, before I winnowed to my room. Leaving them all guilty and silent. 

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With my back against the door, I sank to the floor, tears streaming down my face. It´s my life! I get to decide how I deal with Eris! Why do they keep talking about it like it isn´t my decision? Like it´s not my life? 

My nails scraped the floor, attempting to hold on to something, anything, as I spiralled down a path I didn´t want to go. A guttural sound escaped my lips as my hand clenched into a fist and slammed into the expensive wood panels beneath me. Pain shot through my knuckles, making me want to scream. Anger. Fear. Emptiness. These emotions ran through my mind as my body shook with sobs. Why can´t I just talk? I want to, but I can´t... I don´t know... the words just won´t come out when I try. It made me even angrier when I thought about it. Do I not feel safe enough around my own family to talk to them? Or is there something wrong with me? 

A knot formed in my stomach. I had never had a big problem with myself before. Not with my body, nor with my inability to speak to others. But now I wished, longed to talk to someone. Just someone who understood me. Someone who...

A certain scent wafted through the room making me pay attention. Was that smoke? I sat up straighter to observe my own bedroom. Books were scattered across the floor and the door to the neighbouring bathroom was open. My bed was made, covered in indigo silk sheets that shimmered slightly in the moonlight streaming in through the closed windows. A few plants hung from the frescoed ceiling. Nothing more.

My eyes were no longer watery and my heartbeat had stabilised. But I could still smell that there was... something. Parchment.

I looked over at my desk, which was littered with various rolls of parchment, papers and pencils of all kinds. But right in the middle. Something had changed. 

Slowly, on shaky legs, I got up and walked over to my desk. A crimson envelope lay there, and next to it a shiny golden feather with light brown spots. I couldn´t remember putting anything like that here. It smelled of an open fire, fresh rain and a hint of vanilla. 

Deep down I knew who must have sent it. I opened the letter with trembling hands.

 ・✧✵✧・✧✵✧・

Hello Princess,

Do you remember the night we met? To be honest, I can´t forget you. Standing on the balcony in your stunning gown, watching the stars fall upon you, even though they couldn´t diminish your appearance. At first I wasn´t sure how to approach you, but I did it anyway.

And it turned out to be one of the most wonderful nights I have ever had, and I wanted to thank you for it.

I could almost hear him chuckling to himself as a warmth filled my heart.

As you probably know by now, I'm your mate, but I don´t want you to feel obligated to anything that concerns me. It is your decision whether or not you wish to meet with me. ( Though I wouldn´t mind, of course) 

A blush spread across my tear-stained cheeks and I instinctively smiled. He had thought of me. He really had. My heart melted like snow in early spring. Something about him made me feel complete and understood. 

But if that´s the case, winnow to the border of Autumn in two days. I´ll be waiting for you under a birch tree when the sun sets. You can´t miss it. Sleep well, Princess! 

His letter also contained a small note. 

(Oh, the feather and the paper you write on will appear on my desk as soon as you write back).

・✧✵✧・✧✵✧・

I was speechless. Not just because he had thought of me or wanted to meet me. No. But because he would let me decide for myself. He wouldn´t force me to accept the bond, even if it hadn´t snapped for me yet. 

Not wanting to think clearly at the moment, I did the only thing that seemed right. I broke the agreement with my parents. 

I pulled out the chair, sat down, picked up the quill and wrote back. 

Half an hour later, I was lying in my bed, surrounded by fluffy pillows and a gentle night breeze caressing my form. A few candles were lit to provide some sort of night light. 

Just as I was falling asleep, footsteps came from the hallway and my bedroom door creaked as it slowly opened. I quickly closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep, not wanting to talk to whoever it was. „Darling, are you still awake?“ My father´s voice echoed through the room as he peeked out from behind the door. 

Just breathe. He won´t recognise it.

And he didn´t. He only walked over to my bed and tucked a few loose strands of hair behind my ear, while the last thing I heard was him whispering: „I´m deeply sorry, Starlight.“ before he silently walked out of my room, leaving me alone. 

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Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not the slightest flicker of light. Total darkness consumed everything around me. No light, nor sun, nor any kind of something... soft. Something to keep me warm as the cold crept up my body, like a hidden shadow from the depths of darkness. 

I gasped for some air to reach my lungs, but all I could inhale was dust. Air! I need air! My lungs began to burn from the lack of oxygen and a tingling sensation shot through my entire being.

I felt like a flame being smothered as a deep, dark wave crashed over me, trying to drown me, as if I were nothing. As if I didn´t matter. 

The darkness drew closer with each passing second. Minute? Hour? Time didn´t matter in this place of emptiness. A place without walls or windows or even solid ground. The only things that trapped me were my own thoughts and the giant beast I couldn´t see, but felt. It swallowed everything around it as its claws raked along my skin, my soul, leaving scratches all over me.

I screamed, but all that came out of my mouth was... nothing. Every sound, no matter how small, was absorbed by the emptiness of this place. 

My body was drenched in sweat and my voice must have been hoarse by now from screaming my heart out for I don´t know how long. Slowly my body was losing consciousness and I was drifting further and further into the devouring void as I frantically tried to breathe. Please! I need to breathe! My heart stuttered for a moment. Help... help me! Somebody! Please, I... Hot tears streamed down my face and my eyes slowly closed as I was suffocated and drowned by the beast that guarded this place. My body went limp, tired from fighting. 

A gentle brush of soft fur against my back was the last thing I felt as I drifted into nothingness. 

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I jolted out of my sleep, my heart racing and the sheets beneath me damp with sweat. You´re awake! Everything is fine! I placed my hand over my chest, feeling my pulse slowly steady as I realised it was all just a nightmare. The silver curtains swayed slightly at the open windows and the moon shone so brightly I had to blink my eyes. `Shh, it´s all right, Little one. I´m here´ it yearned to say. My breathing had normalised and I ran a hand through my sticky hair. It was just a dream. I lay back and tried to sleep again, but I knew it was going to be a long night. 

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

@tele86 @circe143 @impossibelle @st4r-girl-official @cherry-cin

[iimplicitt]

HELLGIRL PT.1 | CL16

pairing: prof. charles leclerc x sainz’s younger sister/student

summary: when a body is found in the snow on campus there’s a ripple of unease that floats over the university of london. dr leclerc always considered himself a rational man. however, that all came crumbling down when someone he believed to be dead showed up in his office doorway.

warnings/topics: slight age gap but both are of age, secret relationship, eventual smut, mentions of death, depictions of violence, stalking, obsession, potentially paranormal, religious allusions, controversial prof!xstudent! relationship, mentions of certain mental conditions such as borderline personality disorder, narcissism, antisocial, etc.

songs for this series

a/n: first, anything from charles’ pov is based in the present. anything in sister! sainz’s pov is in the past. second, this in no way shape or form is based off reality or charles’ personality. this is an au with darker themes and it’s all for the plot. i already had a similar idea going but i recently had to write a paper on the association between stalking and a diagnosis of BDP and/or narcissistic traits or disorders (this does not mean they’re correlated), so i was feeling motivated. this is also not meant to romanticize anything, i purely find it interesting and challenging to write. i also feel it goes without saying that this sibling of carlos is completely fictional

enjoy <3

Charles

When they found her body in the early hours of that morning, a heavy sense of trepidation fell over the campus. Making the snow and wind seem just a bit more bitter than usual, nipping at any exposed skin as if microscopic needles were shooting through the air. It was still so early, the police tape freshly put up, taught against the winter weather and the snow was multicoloured as it soaked up the Christmas lights strung up around the university. The crowd was small at the moment, those who got to campus far too early were the only ones standing by the perimeter set by the police.

“What’ve they found?” Dr. Adlterton asked as her boots came to a stop next to his as they crunched through the fresh snow, steam billowing out from the lid of her to-go coffee cup as she raised it to her lips.

Charles looked down at her briefly, brows furrowing a bit before forcing his eyes forward again as the police began setting up a tent over a spot in the snow. “A body, I believe.”

His colleague’s hand froze just as she was about to take a sip, blinking rapidly before trying to crane her neck higher to get a better look, but the police were making quick work on privatising the crime scene. He bit the inside of his cheek as he observed her, finding her curiosity a bit macabre but he understood. Everyone standing out in the snow at that moment was curious. Clearly a tragedy had happened, but the mystery around who exactly tended to cloud any sympathy for the poor thing lying in the snow.

“Do they have any idea who it is? What might’ve happened? Who found the body?” The questions tumbled out of Dr. Alderton’s mouth, her coffee returning to her lips as she finally took a sip and he watched as her red lipstick stained the lid.

Charles sighed, running a gloved hand through his now damp hair as snow began to soak into it. “I don’t know, but you don’t seem very concerned. What if it was a student or a faculty member?” She rolled her eyes at him and he bit the inside of his cheek again as he looked down at her. He wasn’t overly fond of the woman. If she wasn’t able to dissect something she didn’t tend to be a fan of it. Much less spend any time in its company.

“Dr. Leclerc, of course I’m concerned. But what do you expect from me? I run the crime science department. This is an excellent learning opportunity–”

“Someone’s demise is a learning opportunity?”

She waved him off. “All of you in the arts are so touchy. It’s part of my job to compartamentalise.” She raised up on her toes one more time in an effort to get a look but it was no use. The tent was up and closed, police filtering in and out as more arrived along with investigators and the forensics division. She sighed and took another drink of her coffee. “I’m sure there will be an email about this. See you around.” She patted him on the shoulder before walking off.

Charles frowned at the spot she had touched him, feeling even colder than before despite the sun finally rearing its head and peeking out through the dense clouds. He shivered, the cold feeling different all of the sudden, almost as if someone was hovering over him and casting him in a shadow of frost.

He shook his head but his bones felt stiff regardless. Giving the area one last look himself, he turned on his heel and left as more people arrived, mostly students at that point.

His polished leather shoes clicked along the pavement as he walked with expertise on avoiding ice, nodding and smiling at those who greeted him. Most of the student body he was sure had no idea what was taking place in front of the Royal Holloway building. He was sure it would be leaking into the press any minute, however.

Charles tried to go on with his day as normal, death was a common event that happened every minute around the world. However, the fact it was simply so close was off putting. Bodies weren’t found on university campuses, at least not often. Especially not here.

He had gotten done with his third lecture for the day and was walking back to his office when he noticed people were beginning to look at him a bit different. Faces looking forlorn and unsure how to approach him. The complete opposite of how people typically acted towards him. Usually he was a magnet for socialisation. People lit up when they saw him because Charles was someone who always knew how to make good conversation. He knew how to make people feel important. He knew exactly what to do to make someone feel needed, and that was one of the most important things in the world. People needed purpose, and he was perfect at giving them one.

When the fifth person looked at him in that off putting way, courage must have gripped them because they came to a stop and whispered, “I am so sorry.”

“Pardon?” He blinked at the boy who was in one of his French Literature classes. Surprised to see him given they didn't have their next class for two more days. Only a few of his students actually liked to linger or catch up with him on course work. Although he was well liked, he wasn’t exactly easy on the workload he handed out.

The boy rubbed at his neck, not meeting Charles' eyes. “You don’t know?”

Charles lifted one shoulder in a partial shrug but his brows creased as he took in how nervous his student seemed to be. “Is everything alright?”

“It’s her.” He finally blurted. “The body they found, it was that Sainz girl.” The boy’s voice shook as he finally got the words out and Charles froze. Something cold and sickly crawled up his spine and was weaving through his vertebrae, making his nerves itch and he rolled his shoulders. Trying to make his skeleton feel right inside of his body but everything was wrong. Wrong wrong wrong.

“What?” Was all he managed to get out, his voice cracking and his tongue feeling too heavy for his mouth.

He stood still as the boy stepped forward and gave him a hug. In any other scenario it would’ve been awkward, but Charles felt reality disconnect for a moment. Not sure what else was said to him as he continued to stand in the hallway long after he was left alone.

Regret was an odd, painfully human thing. Sure, animals may have the sense of knowing better. Learned aversion after facing certain consequences. But the rotten feeling in his chest as he felt his lungs start to move again was purely human and simply awful. He pinched the bridge of his nose and he tightly shut his eyes, willing the pit in his stomach to go away.

God, what was he supposed to say to Carlos? He was sure he would be getting a call at some point. Or should he call first? Perhaps the former was better, letting his best friend come to him when he was ready.

Mourning had no timeline, he knew that. And everyone handled it in different ways, he just hoped whatever creature comfort he could muster up would be sufficient enough to abate any storms of curiosity. He didn’t have to feign any heartache, though.

She was everything to him.

That’s funny.

Charles’ head whipped around as chills ravished his skin, the reaction so sudden it nearly hurt as his flesh prickled up at the sound of the voice. Her voice. He blinked rapidly down the hallway but it was empty and well lit, nothing was lurking in the shadows. Not that there would be. That would be ridiculous.

Trying to shake some sense into him, he turned around but stopped short at the figure leaning against the doorway of his office. All too familiar, yet foreign. His breath was ripped out of him along with his ability to speak as he stared at her in horror. His eyes couldn’t adjust as she wavered. Steady but not quite right all that once.

She smiled slightly, those lips of hers pulled back in the coy smile he had adored so much. Her eyes though, they were off. Empty almost, yet equally heavy with a weight of something more. His own eyes flicked down, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Taking in her torn tights and her askew sweater hanging lazily over one shoulder. The pretty red one he had bought her for Christmas last year. Charles’ gaze danced over her necklace and landed on her slender neck that was coloured a faint, translucent vision of blues and purples.

He couldn’t quite remember if he had put them there in lust or in violence.

Is there really a difference?

Her voice swirled around in his head as they left her mouth and echoed, his ears began to ring as he stumbled away from her and slid to the floor. “How-” he finally managed to choke out, staring up at her and frightened he was having some sort of psychotic break.

She sighed, though no air was disturbed and she leaned down to meet his eyes, her dark hair falling over her shoulders and just barely brushing against his skin. Not quite touching but he could feel it. Feel her. She was so cold. Her eyes danced between his, her lips tugged downward and brows furrowed. Even now he was completely taken by her, looking as if she was personally crafted by God just for him to admire.

What have you done? She finally asked him, her voice soft yet chilling as her words sunk through his skin, making his bones shiver in a damp chill again like they had earlier this morning. Had that been her?

Before he could even fathom some sort of response a door opened down the hallway and she looked up towards the direction of the sound. Not a moment later she was gone. As if a screen glitched and she fizzled out. Charles could still sense something, though. As if something was now tethered to him. Feeling heavy on his lungs and he was freezing.

Ghosts weren’t real.

They couldn’t be.

tag list: @theonottsbxtch @fortunapre @ashbone @c8lap1nto @taasgirl @stopeatread @dying-inside-but-its-classy (if you’d like to be tagged please let me know!)

[shuuuuush]

I WOULD FIGHT FOR YOU ANYDAY [Kenny]

Summary: Kenny gets into a fight with someone who was talking bad about you behind your back.

Warnings: mentions of fighting and injury

A/N: I don't think I've seen many Kenny fics, so here's for Kenny lovers out there 🫶

*** ***

*** ***

They say there is nothing like coming home and collapsing onto the sofa after a long and tiring day. In your opinion, anyway, it's the second best thing, the first is collapsing and going into a long hug with your boyfriend, Kenny.

You were out all day hanging out with some friends and just came home a few minutes before 8. You had gone grocery shopping half an hour earlier as you wanted to make Kenny his favourite dessert, apple crumble. And you haven't really cooked much for him lately, so you also wanted it to be a surprise.

Usually, he comes home at 9 on normal days. Depending on other days, he has boxing training, to which you mostly stay at home by yourself. But you knew today he had to shoot a video, so he'll be back at the normal time.

Cleaning yourself up and prepping the dinner, you got started on making the dessert. You smile as you remember watching Kenny's Come Dine With Me video. You remember his reaction to you laughing at his cooking skills, you love him but it was horrendous.

"I probably made a better apple crumble than you." He said, pouting at your laughing figure.

You grin, shaking your head. "Oh, I definitely make a better apple crumble." You said, still recovering from laughter.

After half an hour, the dessert was prepared, you left it on the counter to cool. All that was left was the waiting game.

5 minutes, Sitting on the couch, you decided to turn on the TV, just to wait out the time.

25 minutes, looking at the clock, you sighed. Maybe they just had a long day to record.

40 minutes, scrolling through your phone, debating whether or not to call him. You didn't want to disturb him either as it might interfere with their video. You ended up not calling him.

1 hour later. At this point, you concluded that Kenny was either not coming home or is going to come home very, very late. And the food was already cold, so you wrapped it up and put it in the fridge.

You sighed, looking at the clock once more, 10:21 pm. You decided to head to bed instead, halfway up the stairs you're thinking, maybe you should've called him. Pulling out your phone, you suddenly hear the jingling of keys unlocking the front door.

Running back down the stairs, heading towards the front door, you're about to question the man you love.

"Ken, you better have an amazing explanation fo-" You cut yourself off suddenly when you saw him. He had bruises on his face and a cut on his lip, clutching his left arm as he locked the door and drops his keys on the table.

"Hey love, sorry I was late..." His voice was lower than a whisper as he glanced briefly at your shocked figure than away.

A sudden hurt hit your heart after seeing his face. Your eyes widened, and you stood in shock for a split second before you quickly came over to help him. Bringing him over to the sofa and setting him down, careful not to hurt him.

You quickly went to the bathroom and grabbed the first aid kit, and you wet a small face towel. Rushing back to Kenny, you sat down and carefully started cleaning up his face.

"Baby, what happened? How are you feeling? Are you okay? Does this hurt when I touch it? When did this happen?" Bombaring him with all the questions, he took your hands and looked into your eyes.

"Love, one question at a time, please."

"Okay," you started, taking a deep breath, "What happened?"

"How about you clean me up first actually, then I'll answer that one. My face hurts like hell." He chuckled, shaking his head and looking back at you, rolling your eyes in response with a small smile.

You took the cold cloth and cleaned up the blood scar on his lip, then moving onto the bruises, slightly pressing onto it and asking if it hurt or not, to which he flinched, obviously indicating to you, it did.

Asking if there was any pain elsewhere, you remembered him clutching his arm earlier. You asked if he could remove his jumper so you could check his arm, to which he calmly complied.

There was a huge bruise along his left arm, and you got an ice pack from the freezer and put it around his arm, wrapping it around with a bandage gauze to keep it in place. Finally, your boyfriend was all patched up.

"Okay, Kenny, you have BIG explaining to do." You waited, watching with set eyes, hoping to know why the hell he came back to you injured.

"How about we head to bed? I'm pretty tired. Long day shooting the videos, you know?" He half smiled and started to get up.

"KENNY!" You weren't having any of that. You pulled him back and sat him back down, careful not to hurt him even though you were getting annoyed. "I'm not playing around. Tell me what happened. Now."

His head hung low, and he nodded and began telling you what happened.

***

"Nah, nah, Niko, you're violating him." AJ doubled over with laughter, trying to recover his breath as they all were watching and listening in the van. Shooting another fake employee video and Niko was currently violating someone about their "bad breath."

"Ask him what he wants to order, then tell him to shush." Chunkz suggested giggling with the rest of the boys.

Over the phone, their conversation could be heard, "Oh yeah, what do you want to order?" "Yeah I'd like a-" "JUST SHUSH MAN."

All of the boys suddenly burst out of laughter at the tall man's actions. Time was up, and Niko returned to the van. It was Kennys turn to be a fake employee.

Walking up to the customers, the boys told him what to say to the person ordering. He did all they told him to say until this one customer tried to mess up the whole thing for Kenny.

He knew who Kenny was, and he ratted him out to the manager, the little snitch. Causing Kenny to get kicked out, and while doing so, the customer started cursing out Kenny, saying his boxing was trash and Kenny just ignored it and laughed off his insults, until the man mentioned you.

He started saying "Oh and that pathetic girlfriend of yours, she's not even pretty and that goes well with her ugly personality. Matches why she chose such an idiot person like you."

Kenny stopped dead in his tracks and turned around. Anyone who was around him could tell that he was mad, and the anger fueled swirling inside his dark eyes.

And where there's a boxer, there's a punch.

One punch led to another, and then there was a fight, the boxer and the man throwing punches at each other, causing the beta squad boys to run out, trying to stop Kenny.

"Yo Kenny, chill out, don't kill the guy!" Sharky said, holding Kenny back. Chunkz got in the middle of the two of them and told the man to back off, AJ screamed at the man to never come back, making him run away from the lot of boys.

"Calm, Ken, Calm." Niko tried soothing Kenny down after he was clearly outraged, placing one hand on his friends shoulder.

"No! This donny thinks he can talk bad about Y/N?? She's amazing, and the love of my life shall I remind you lot. I'm not letting that slide. That guy is proper mad if he thinks he can talk like that."

Kenny was fuming, still trying to break free from Niko and Sharkys grasp, but after some talk and calm words from the boys. He managed to let down his anger.

"Look, Kenny, I know you're mad and all, but you wouldn't want to return back to Y/N in pieces? If we didn't stop you, that idiot or you would've been in the hospital, bro." AJ stated, and for once, he actually tried to calm the boxer instead of trying to annoy him.

"AJ's right, bruva. Calm yeah, don't worry, we'll delete the footage. We can take you back to your house after." Chunkz said, putting a hand out on Kennys shoulder, reassuring him.

Throughout the ride back to his house, Kenny was wondering if you would have thought less of him if he didn't finish off the guy. Let him run away? Allow him to even speak about you like that in the first place? Or if you hated that he was too aggressive at times, and would it scare you off? All these questions floated in his head, worrying him even more to the second closer to his house.

When he arrived, he checked the time on his phone, 10:19 pm. He thanked the boys and exited the car, fumbling for his keys and in his mind trying to find out how to approach you.

***

"And that's basically it." He admitted, a straight face, but you could see in his eyes, worry and confusion to your reaction.

You were still processing what he said, and then finally set on his eyes. You could honestly feel tears start to develop in your eyes, as you stare at this beautiful man, all that he did for you? And he thought that you would be mad at him for defending you?

Honestly, sometimes you think this man lets his hits to the face, hit his brain a little too hard.

You placed both of your hands around his face and made him look up at you, as he was looking down earlier. His gaze softened, and he could read it in your eyes that all those thoughts that he was afraid of weren't true and probably weren't ever going to be true.

"Kenny," you started still having your hands on his face, "You do realise that I would never be mad at you for protecting those you love? In fact, I'm really happy that you would do such a thing for me." Your lips curled into a soft smile when you saw in his eyes the relief he felt after hearing your words.

"I would fight for you any day, love." Kenny smiled back at you and leaned in to kiss you. A soft kiss but reassuring you and mostly himself that he would always love you and fight to protect you. And he would always be by your side.

Pulling away, you laid your head on his chest, wrapping an arm around his torso, and he wrapped his around your waist. "Still, I don't like that you got hurt. But it did mean I got to take care of you for what you did." You laughed, causing Kenny to chuckle too.

"Also, I smelt something when I walked in here earlier?" He questioned, and you got up off of his chest and smiled widely.

"Apple crumble, baby." You winked and laughed as Kenny got up real quick to sit at the dining table waiting to try the apple crumble.

Right now, you wouldn't care about any other problem in the world. Everything that mattered to you was here right now, in front of you. And to give him what he deserved after what he did for you, it only seems fair for a king.

Taglist: @b4tasquad

[torscrawls]

A Ghost by Any Other Name ch.4

You can read it on AO3!

If you prefer tumblr: Chapter 1 can be found here. Chapter 2 can be found here. Chapter 3 can be found here.

--

Danny couldn't stop thinking about Tim's questions about where he was from.

A big part of him hadn't wanted to tell the truth, but a bigger part hadn't wanted to lie.

When they—he, Sam, and Tucker—had crafted his new identity they had decided to keep Danny's hometown as Amity Park because it was easier not to slip up if he had fewer lies to keep track of. And Danny already had more than enough of those.

They had banked on Amity being a small enough town that no one would recognize it, and more importantly; not recognize him.

But of course people would ask about his past, it was a normal thing to do between friends. Right? There was no reason to panic. 

Danny just had to become better at quelling the panic and remember the lies so that no one got suspicious and figured him out.

Sadly—or thankfully?—he didn't have time to dwell on the fact that his one and only new friendship was one wrong question away from crumbling, not now when ghosts had started appearing in Gotham.

So far he had been able to avoid getting dragged back into the fighting by threatening most of the ghosts that had shown up to leave him, and the city, alone. Several years of fighting had, if nothing else, made sure that most ghosts at least listened to him.

Which was good since Gotham’s own vigilantes arrived quickly at almost every scene and Danny didn’t want to risk using his ghostly abilities too much and reveal himself, or—even worse—bring his parents here.

That wasn't to say that he was ready to fight if he had to, because he absolutely wasn't. He wasn't even sure he could fight right now with how his body felt.

At first he had chalked it up to a side effect of his massive growth spurt, especially since he very much doubted that it was of a normal, human origin. What with the late and sudden onset, the unnatural speed with which he had shot up and filled out, and considering his increasingly otherworldly appearance it probably had a ghostly origin.

But he doubted that it was the root-cause of his sickness since he had stopped growing, but was only feeling worse.

Maybe his sickness was a side effect of getting his arm removed under such traumatic circumstances. Maybe it was some sort of infection. 

He had almost gotten used to the alarming looks his sudden dizziness earned him and his staggering runs to the bathroom to throw up—what felt like—all his insides. His constant joint pain that wasn't helped by his cobbled together prosthetic arm. His headaches and his too-green nosebleeds.

Because of the whole on the run and living on the streets thing he had been trying out for the last few months, he hadn't exactly had the funds nor opportunity to go to a doctor and have the arm checked out and his own experiences and conversations over the phone with Sam, Tucker, and Jazz only got him so far. 

Now, he did have a job and an apartment but he really didn’t want to risk having to answer any hard questions on just how he managed to lose an entire arm and why he had then proceeded to quite obviously cauterize and stitch it up himself.

Of course, Danny knew one other person with a prosthetic arm and Frostbite had never withheld information from him, but he hadn't had a chance to meet up with the yeti again now that he had first-hand experience.

Whatever caused it, the fact of the matter was that Danny felt like shit and that he was happy he hadn't had to fight anyone lately. But with the number of ghost sightings rising every week, his luck might not last. He didn’t know why ghosts had started to appear in Gotham, but he wasn’t naïve enough to think he didn’t have anything to do with it. And if ghosts had started showing up in town because of him , then it was his responsibility to deal with them. 

History loves repeating itself.

Danny was currently busy coughing up a lung and trying not to let any of the ectoplasm that dribbled out of his mouth stain his clothes, all the while debating whether it was worth the trouble to stagger the rest of the way to the convenience store for his dinner, when he felt the all-too-familiar sensation of cold clawing its way up his throat and escaping through his gritted teeth.

Great.

And that was all he had time to think before he was body-slammed to the ground.

Danny tried to twist in the air, to get out from underneath whoever had attacked him, but large hands grabbed his shoulders and slammed him into the pavement. His face pressed against the rough ground and Danny instinctively raised a hand, ectoplasm building beneath his skin and ready to burst forth, before stopping himself and remembering his human disguise, that he couldn’t fight enemies openly anymore. Not as Dante Armstrong, regular dude, and definitely not as Phantom, his parents no.1 target.

Danny twisted enough under the weight pinning him down to glimpse Skulker grinning down at him with a victorious smile. He wasn’t surprised.

“What are you doing here, Skulker?” Danny gritted out.

“If you thought you could escape me by coming here, then you're dead wrong. I'll hunt you down wherever you go, little whelp.” Skulker grinned down at him with fire in his eyes as his hands tightened on Danny's shoulders until the grip went from uncomfortable to painful.

Ancients, Danny itched to blast the bastard right off him and into the nearest building. He had enough to deal with as it was without someone trying to skin him alive but there were people around, staring at them and screaming. Of course there was. He couldn't very well yell “ going ghost!” and expect no one to see him.

Despite what Jazz always said, he had learnt some things over the years.

But that didn’t mean that he would just lie here helplessly. He tried to buck the other ghost off with just a touch of super-strength, hoping no one saw anything out of the ordinary. If so; Danny would just have to find a new town to live in. It was okay. Really. The thought didn’t make him want to cry or anything.

Skulker growled and Danny decided to try the same approach he had used in most ghost attacks in Gotham. Talking to them. Jazz would be so proud. Even if the talking in question was more akin to threatening .

Danny made sure his fangs were on full display as he growled, “If you don't get off me right now I'll tear open that flimsy tin-can you call a body and drag you screaming out of your own mouth.”

Skulker paused. They had fought enough times for him to know that they weren't just empty words. Most ghosts just needed a little reminder.

Maybe not a preferred way of conflict resolution from a human standpoint, but far from mindless. Just another thing his parents had been wrong about.

Danny consciously flashed his eyes and Skulker immediately jumped back. As he staggered to his feet, Danny gasped as he tried to force the ectoplasm back down.

That short release of energy almost startled Danny from how good it felt. Like releasing some of the pressure on an over-pressurized pot. He had to wrestle back control not to let out any more than he already had, but he couldn’t risk doing that in the middle of the street.

But Ancients, he wanted to. For the first time in months, his headache lifted slightly.

He breathed deep to get himself back under control and lifted his prosthetic arm, as if aiming it at Skulker. “You're not the only one with inbuilt weapons anymore. You want to see what the weapon that took my arm would do to a full ghost?”

It was an empty threat, of course. Danny would never again go anywhere near that weapon if he could help it, much less carry it around, and he had absolutely no idea if it would be more or less dangerous to a full ghost. But Skulker didn’t know that.

“This isn’t over, whelp,” Skulker threatened as he floated backwards, eyes blazing. “I’ll get you eventually!”

“You’ve said that for years, and I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“You won’t see me coming.”

“I’m shaking in my boots,” Danny deadpanned. Then he gestured with his arm, hoping that Skulker wouldn't see the way it was, in fact, shaking. “Now run along.”

Skulker swore and growled and grumbled, but he did turn invisible and fly away.

Danny felt his shoulders relax as his presence disappeared and he unsteadily lowered his arm back down, wincing at the pain radiating through his shoulder and back. He had been lucky; he didn’t know if he would have been able to actually win a fight with Skulker right then because of how bad he felt. Finally, he could go— 

And then Batman stood in front of him, as sudden and silent as any ghost.

Danny blinked in surprise as his brain automatically assessed the danger of the man in front of him; his multiple weapons tucked into his belt, his broad frame and muscular limbs, his sharp gaze fixed on Danny. Really, he was a lot more intimidating up close than he had been from the other side of the street, which was as close as Danny had gotten during the other ghost attacks.

Then he realized that he really should be trying to convince Batman that he was just an innocent civilian and definitely not involved with ghosts in any way, no sire.

Danny made his best impression of being scared and grateful for rescue, drawing from years of experience of being on the receiving end of it. “Oh, Batman! Thank you for saving me! I was so scared!”

Batman stared at where Skulker had been just a moment before for a few tense seconds before turning the full force of his attention towards Danny. And Danny froze, rooted to the ground, more scared now than he had been facing off against Skulker.

Batman kept his eyes on Danny, silent, but then Red Robin suddenly appeared at his side. Maybe being silent as ghosts were a prerequisite for being a vigilante.

Red Robin had a kinder look on his face than his colleague as he asked, “Are you hurt?”

“I—I don't think so. I don’t—” Danny didn’t have to fake the trembling of his limbs. “I don’t know what happened. Suddenly he just—”

“It’s okay, you’re safe now,” Red Robin said with practiced patience. “What’s your name?”

“It—It's Dante.”

“Alright, Danny, can you tell us what happened?” Red Robin asked and Danny fought hard not to flinch at the use of his nickname. That made two people who had immediately defaulted to Danny –Red Robin and Tim. He was going to kill Tucker.

Batman, apparently fed up with the niceties, glanced down at Danny's arm and asked, “What did you do to make the ghost leave?”

And wow, Danny was tempted to offer him a cough drop, speaking in such a growly voice couldn’t be good for you. He just shook his head, forcing his eyes to water—thank you Maddie and Jack for teaching him that skill, who knew that having to hide everything from his parents would make him really good at acting scared—as he stammered out a pathetic, “I—I don't know. I just tried to keep him away and—and I don't know.”

He really hoped that him threatening Skulker with his arm could be interpreted as him raising his hand to defend himself at a distance. 

“What did it say?” Batman pressed, no hint of sympathy in his voice.

Danny shook his head. “Nothing that made any sense.”

Batman looked at him in what Danny thought was disapproving silence before Red Robin jumped in again, attempting to smooth everything over. “Go easy on him. He looks scared out of his mind,” Red Robin said with clear sympathy in his voice.

And Danny was. Just not of the ghosts like they assumed. He was scared of them . Ghosts, he was used to, but the two people in front of him were the ones that could drive him out of his new home.

But Danny nodded intensely and put on his most terrified voice as he said, “I thought I was a goner! The ghost could have really hurt me!”

“So you do know about—” Red Robin started before cutting himself off.

“How do you know it was a ghost?” Batman asked as he sent Red Robin a glare and he stepped back, letting Batman take over.

Fuck, fuckity-fuck. He had wanted to stay as far away from Batman's radar as possible, not suddenly be the sole focus of his attention.

What if they found him out? What if they too decided that all ghosts were evil?…What if they also decided that they wanted to try and cure him?

“I—I don’t—” Danny stammered out, desperately trying to come up with a good excuse. He was a ghost fanatic? Too close to home. He had been hunted by the ghost in question for years because it wanted to skin him? No one would believe it. He was a half-dead hero fighting ghosts since his early teens? Great response if he wanted to be thrown into Arkham. Instead he landed on a very meek, “I watch the news?”

Batman didn’t even hesitate before firing off the next question, “I’ve seen you before. At these ghost-attacks. What were you doing there?”

Danny tensed up. Of course Batman had noticed him and put two-and-two together. He was the world’s greatest detective.

Then Batman continued, voice just as gruff as before, “Why haven’t you told anyone if they’re attacking you?”

Or not.

He thought that the ghosts were there to attack Danny? It wasn’t completely wrong, even if Danny generally was the one attacking them to stop them from attacking others. Still, it was… nice that people didn’t automatically assume that he was the bad guy. Danny cleared his throat and looked away. “I didn’t want to cause any trouble.”

“That didn’t really work out, did it?”

Red Robin had apparently had enough of being sidelined, which was kind of funny for a sidekick, and stepped back into the conversation, “It’s not his fault he was attacked. Stop grilling him.”

Danny wanted to agree, but apparently his throat had other ideas as it chose that moment to seize up and cause him to double over again, coughing until he winced in pain.

Red Robin placed a careful hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Batman’s gruff voice spoke up, “So you were hurt.”

“Yes,” Danny managed after a few deep breaths, ignoring how raspy his voice sounded. “Or, no. But it wasn't because of this.”

“Do you need to sit down?” Red Robin asked and if the concern in his voice was fake, he was even better than Danny.

Danny shook his head. “No, no, I need to go. I have a meeting with a friend and I’m already late.”

Red Robin withdrew his hand, sounding suddenly hesitant, almost guilty, as he said, “I’m sure they'd understand.”

Batman inserted himself into the conversation again with a, “We might need to get in contact with you to ask some further questions. What is your number?”

Red Robin rolled his eyes, and the fact that Danny could tell even behind the mask was a testament of just how often he must do it. “What he means is; Can you give us a number we can reach you at?”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “Do I get any in return?”

“No,” Batman immediately answered. Red Robin had no translation for that, just an apologetic shrug.

Danny let out a barking laugh. “At least you're honest.” So he rattled off his number and then scampered off, refusing to look over his shoulder but feeling eyes on his back the whole time until he turned a corner. 

He let himself slump against a wall, shaking legs barely holding him upright. Somehow he had survived. Still, he had thought he had gotten away from everything that had to do with ghosts. But now everyone here was asking him about them; Tim and Batman both.

He couldn’t afford any more slip-ups.

--

Danny dragged himself into work the next day, late and tired after his unplanned run-in with Skulker and subsequent meeting with Batman and Red Robin. To top off the whole evening Tim hadn’t even showed for their planned game-night, which might have been just as well since Danny had barely managed to get home before collapsing in bed.

After the short reprieve he felt after his confrontation with Skulker, stuffing all his ectoplasm back down felt even harder than before. It was as if that short, sweet, taste of freedom had made his body rebel even worse. The headache had come back with a vengeance and he held a handkerchief to his nose to stop the constant dripping, which alarmingly had started to turn more and more green. His joints hurt worse than right after the accident and if he wasn’t deathly afraid of losing his hard-earned job he would have stayed home and wallowed in his misery.

As it was, the walk to work hadn’t been easy with his whole body hurting even more than it usually did nowadays, even though he had left his prosthesis at home for the day.

When he finally stumbled through the door he was sweating, trembling, and wishing he had just caved and called in sick.

His misery and wallowing was interrupted when Tim poked his head into the room. “Hey, Danny, do you have time to take a look at something?”

Danny straightened up and plastered a smile on his face, hiding the paper he had been using to try and stem the blood dripping from his nose. “Yeah, sure. What’s up?”

“I have a project that I need another pair of eyes on.” 

Danny sent his boss, an older woman named Hannah, a questioning look, but she simply stared at Tim with wide eyes and then gave Danny a nod. 

For some reason, his boss never seemed to mind when Danny went to help Tim with something. She never argued and she would just agree with wide eyes and an expression that almost looked awed as she immediately agreed. It was as if she thought Danny was unbelievably kind to help Tim out. As if she was impressed that Danny could stand Tim.

If his boss wasn't otherwise so nice, Danny would call her out on it.

“So what is this project you wanted help with?”

Tim seemed to be distracted by his phone as they walked through the corridors, but at that he looked up and smiled. “Oh, it’s nothing. You just looked like you needed a break. What’s up?”

Danny grimaced at the fact that he was apparently so easy to read. “I had a run-in with Batman.”

Tim placed his phone in his pocket. “Was it the ghost attack?” 

“How did you know?” Danny asked in surprise.

Tim’s gaze flickered to the side and back. “It’s on the news.”

“Yeah…” Danny let out a long sigh. Of course it was on the news, but since Tim hadn’t seemed to know that he’d been involved he took some solace in the fact that he probably hadn’t been mentioned. “I got stuck in the middle of it last night.”

“Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”

Danny waved him off. “No, no, I’m fine. It’s not the first time I’ve been in a ghost atta—” Danny cut himself off. He was too tired to monitor everything he said. He cursed himself.

Tim perked up. “So you do know about ghosts?”

Which was the second time in as many days he had gotten that question. Was he really so bad at keeping secrets? “Why are you so interested in them?” Danny countered.

Why would Tim, his new friend in another town, suddenly ask about ghosts? Danny just wanted to forget his old life, god damn it!

It was Tim’s turn to look a bit hesitant. “Well. There’s been a lot of attacks in the city lately by villains that seem… Strange. So I thought that maybe they’re ghosts?”

Danny really had no idea if that was a normal conclusion to jump to or not. He was the first to admit that his perception was a bit skewed. “Maybe,” Danny allowed.

“So you do believe in ghosts?”

Danny was so tired and he really didn’t feel like denying his own existence today. “Yeah.”

“But… you said your hometown wasn’t haunted?”

Danny cursed himself. Again. When would he actually learn? “Well. It’s not? It’s more accurate to say it’s under attack.”

Tim blinked. “Right.” He stopped walking. “So you know a lot about them? The ghosts?”

“Everyone from Amity knows about ghosts to some degree,” Danny said with a strained smile and as always; careful not to show his teeth.

Tim raised an eyebrow. “And what degree are you?”

Danny shrunk in on himself, uncomfortable. “I mean… That depends… I don't really—” 

Tim leaned back, hands up and with a slightly guilty expression on his face. “Oh, no, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pressure you. It's just—” he exhaled forcibly and, after what seemed like a short internal debate, said, “We might be having some issues that we think miiiight be related to ghosts.”

That got Danny’s attention. A ghost he hadn’t noticed? That was an issue.

That didn't mean that he wanted to get involved with whatever this was but the least he could do was to listen to what Tim had to say. As a friend he owed him that, at least. 

Tim combed a hand through his hair with a strained laugh. “You're not laughing at me. That’s a start.” 

Danny raised an eyebrow. “I'm from Amity Park. I’m used to worse.” At Tim's nonplussed expression he clarified, “We have our fair share of whack-jobs.”

“Are you calling me a whack-job?” Tim asked with a smile tugging at his lips.

“Yes,” Danny deadpanned and smiled as Tim snorted, breaking some of the tension.

Tim took a deep breath and then hesitantly said, “I’m not really supposed to be talking about it, but honestly we’re at a bit of a dead-end. Do you think you’re up for bouncing some ideas?”

Now it was Danny’s turn to hesitate.

He didn’t want to get involved in any more ghostly problems. He had tried to get away. He had gotten away.

But it had really never mattered what he wanted, had it? The problems were already here, and if he had learnt something over the years since everything went to literal hell it was that ignoring your problems didn’t tend to solve them, it just made them haunt you.

No matter how much he wished otherwise.

Not that this came as a huge surprise, he had been waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Suck on that Jazz! He hadn’t been paranoid!

So Danny sighed, and prepared himself to have everything he’d worked for come crashing down. Again. “Yeah, sure.”

Tim brightened up. “Really? You’re sure?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Danny waved him off. “I have to help if I can, right? So, what’s up?”

“Well, we have this… Computer. It's not very important.” 

Which meant that it was very important.

Tim continued, “And it’s getting attacked by… something.”

“Right. And why would just think ghosts and not, I don’t know, a normal virus?”

“Well. It learns and adapts quicker than any virus I’ve ever seen.” Tim fumbled his phone back out of his pocket. “Just. Here. Look at these logs.”

Danny looked down at the readings clearly displaying ectoplasmic activity and cursed his whole existence. The only silver lining being that it was restrained to a closed system which meant that his parents shouldn’t be able to pick up on it. But this meant that they were dealing with a big and important computer acting up with ghostly readings. Yeah, there was someone he knew that fit that M.O. Just to make sure, he asked, “This is from the attacks?”

“Yes,” Tim confirmed.

Danny heaved a  sigh. First Skulker and now Technus? Well. In for a penny… “I might know who it could be, but I need to see it to make sure.”

Underneath his absolutely overwhelming desire to do anything besides “making sure”, Danny found that he was impressed that they had been able to keep up with Technus until now. That was no easy task.

“Wait. Really?” Tim looked genuinely surprised.

Danny raised an eyebrow. “You asked me for help, didn't you?” 

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you would actually be able to help.”

Danny snorted. “Glad to disappoint.”

Tim laughed. “I'm glad you're disappointing!” 

Danny joined in, feeling a bit better about the whole disaster as he said, “Lead the way!” 

--

And that's how Danny found himself in an otherwise empty room occupied by a big computer which looked more high tech than anything he had seen before. Well, it looked to be composed of several different parts, but no less advanced for it. It reminded him of his parents’ and his own inventions; the best parts cobbled together to make something that was far beyond anything available on the market.

If Tim was the one who built it, then Danny suddenly felt a lot more comfortable with him poking around in his arm. The only question was; for what purpose was it built?

Danny didn't have very good experiences with rich people who liked to mess with science and computers.

He wondered if this computer also contained a creepy program modeled after some poor unsuspecting victim. Or data to make clones of a nearby child. Maybe even data about all the heroes in the world and plans how to take them down, or something equally ridiculous.

Tim looked from the computer, to Danny, and back, before saying, “Just try to focus on the ghost problem, alright?”

That only made him more interested, more curious. “Sure.”

But even that promise didn’t stop him from sneaking a few glances at the computer as he worked, but sadly he was unable to really get any useful information from it. Whoever owned it took security very seriously. After a short while, Danny leaned back and declared, “Yeah, it’s definitely Technus.”

“Technus?”

Danny just raised his voice as he said, “Yeah, Technus is a ghost who just sucks at everything that’s related to technology!” Danny made sure to pitch his voice even louder as he ignored Tim’s raised eyebrows, “He’s just the worst and everyone back home laughs at him! He can’t even figure out a light bulb!”

Tim frowned in confusion, but before he could do more than open his mouth, Technus—predictably—burst from the computer in a shower of sparks.

Tim staggered backwards. “Holy—”

“Yo, Nick,” Danny said with his hand raised in greeting. “So this is where you’ve been hiding out?”

“Ghost-boy,” Technus growled out, his body still halfway morphed into the computer. 

“I hope I’m not seeing you trying to possess this computer.” Danny tried to cross his arms, realized he only had one at the moment and settled for crossing it over his torso. “Do you want me to call Tucker?”

Technus froze. “No. I’ll just— I’ll just leave.”

Danny nodded. “Yeah, I think that’s for the best.” Then he added, “You know, my parents probably have some new tech for you to infect.”

Technus perked up, moving as if to leave, but then he hesitated and turned back to Danny. “I don’t want to owe you anything, so I’m going to give you some advice. All that ectoplasm leaking out is going to draw more of us in. You can’t contain a system failure, you know? You have to shut down the whole process or it’s going to cascade and destroy everything.”

With that ominous statement, Technus fizzled out like bad static and it wasn’t until Technus had left that Danny realized what he had just revealed to Tim about his own parents.

He relaxed minutely when Tim didn’t bring it up but instead didn’t waste any time before asking, “How did you do that?”

Danny shrugged.  “We have a sort of understanding.”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to elaborate on that?”

“Not really.”

Danny could tell that Tim wanted to question him, but he must have looked as uncomfortable as he felt—and Tim must have realized that he wouldn’t say anything more—because Tim just pursed his lips and asked, “And what did you mean about your parents?”

Aaaand there it was.

“They’re inventors,” Danny hedged as he tried to play it off.

“That’s cool! What do they specialize in?” 

Danny waved him off. “Different things. Nothing you would recognize.”

Tim looked like he wanted to ask more, but then he stopped, tilted his head, and asked, “What did he mean about system failure?”

Danny was infinitely grateful for Tim’s curiosity at the moment. “Who knows?” Danny shrugged. “Ghosts are weird.”

Tim pouted. “Do you have tips for how we can make sure this doesn’t happen again?”

“Nick won’t be coming back.”

“But other ghosts might?”

“I mean… Yeah.” At least Danny hadn’t been able to get them to stay away permanently. Yet.

“Can I count on you to help with them if they do?”

Danny hesitated. He didn’t want to say no and disappoint his new friend, but he also didn’t want to promise to help with things he didn’t want to get involved with and he definitely didn’t want to get more involved with ghosts than he had to. He had worked hard to stay under the radar of both his parents and the Bats in Gotham, and this would definitely not do that. He had enough experience to know that accepting this would be a slippery slope right down into getting found out and subsequently, into trouble.

“I’ll think about it.”

Tim looked like he wanted to argue, to push, but then he swallowed it down, muttered what sounded like “not a mystery” and nodded. “Thanks. And thanks for getting the ghost out of the computer.”

“Don’t mention it,” Danny said, and hoped that Tim picked up on how literally he meant it.

[tobylix-blog]

Southern winds - Legolas x f!Reader

Content & Warnings: slight angst, memory loss Word count: 3.5k Summary: Legolas joins king Elessar during his travel through recently reclaimed lands of Harondor. He is met with the views of the vast steppe, poverty and some old Harad magic. A/n: This turned out quite differently from how I initially envisioned, so I am pretty much desperate for feedback in comments, asks or dms. P.S. Requests are open

Even though Hísimë [1] is considered to be the fading season, usually accompanied by first significantly colder days throughout the Middle-earth, South from Poros river it seems to be yet another month of autumn when days and nights differ in lighting less than in weather. The Harad road goes south taking smooth turns around rocky hills, never showing one's eyes more than necessary. But a traveler equipped with a fine cloak and a good flask of water feels welcomed by the vast steppe slowly turning to desert.

Riders left Minas Tirith over a fortnight ago. Their cloaks were black, making them similar to some crisp-edged shadows casted by a weird flock of birds. Elessar had made it clear that he wished to remain in the front of the whole group, leading the way rather than following the fame of his name. And all the more so he wished since he had learned that Legolas wanted to join him for this mission.

«These lands are pleased to witness new people,» Legolas mentioned gesturing at some small rodent that had been running along the road with them for a minute.

Aragorn smirked in response. «Your eyes are only getting sharper over the years.»

He reached into one of the bags and pulled out a hardtack. Riding closer to the edge of the road he crumbled it and scattered along the path. He slowed down the horse to watch as the animal reached the breadcrumbs and began feasting upon them.

«These lands need a helping hand. It has always been difficult for people here, but living under the constant threat from both Corsairs of Umbar and Haradrim is beyond hard,» Aragorn sighed, catching up with Legolas.

«The chance will present itself soon. Before long we will reach Forambar. I can hear the voices in the distance,» the elf replied.

«Shall we take a turn here then? Merchants were not so clear about the path.»

«Not yet, we might need to ride some more.»

Aragorn trusted Legolas' hearing more than any advice or guidance and it paid off grandly. The elf led the riders through an almost invisible path twisting between the stony hills. As they reached the highest point they could see Forambar before them. Just a village like many other in Harondor. A bunch of rickety huts and tents scattered across a narrow valley. The only notable thing about Forambar was that it was the closest settlement to Ithilien, and thus Gondor.

As the king and his entourage approached the settlement, many of its inhabitants came out to see. Some were wary of people in fine armor with the White tree on their chests. Others seemed rather curious about the unexpected guests. No matter the expressions of tanned faces, their eyes glimmered with one and the same question 'What do you bring here?'

Aragorn halted the horse halfway through the village and waited. The sparse crowd filled with whispers, swayed like a wave, and a man emerged from within it. He wasn't particularly tall or strong, but his clothes appeared finer than those of others and suggested his higher status.

«What brings us the honor to welcome guests from Gondor?» the man inquired cautiously.

«It is my will to pay visit to all settlements South from Poros and bring whatever help people of Harondor might need for I am the King, Elessar Telcontar, and these lands are once more part of my kingdom according to peace treaty with Haradrim,» Aragorn spoke, his voice clear and loud above the quiet valley. In the golden rays of the sunset behind his back he seemed a regal monument of himself.

For a moment everyone remained silent and motionless. Then the man in front, chief of Forambar, who couldn't tear his eyes away from Aragorn, got down on one knee bowing his head lowly to the king. The crowd behind him swayed once more and followed the example. Elders bowed with respect, young ones knelt.

Legolas observed the scene of recognition with mild curiosity and understanding. He knew well enough what kind of a king his friend was, that Aragorn deserved every bit of this esteem. Among all gathered people the elf noticed only one figure that remained unbent. A young woman standing in a narrow passage between tents – you. Your dark skin glowed like antique bronze in sunlight. Your hair cut unusually short was mostly covered by a scarf, its long ends hanging over your shoulder. But what caught his eyes more than a faint hint of a bow that you portrayed were your ears with undoubtedly pointy ends.

______________________________________________________________

Though Forambar had little to no resources to provide for the king and his entourage, two tents were momentarily set up on height above the village. There was something positively romantic in the way one could leave the comforting warmth of a tent and be so completely enveloped in cool night air and bright glow of stars above.

Before the dusk gave in to the darkness completely, Damon, chief of Forambar, visited Aragorn. He asked you to come along as well. When you entered the tent together he bowed deeply to the king once more, however you only bowed your head respectfully. Damon spoke quietly and verbosely, doubts and uncertainty clear in his tone as he asked for what service he could accomplish for the Great King.

You stopped him at once, as you put your hand on the chief's shoulder. «My king, let this man go back to his family. His heart is pained at the thought of not fulfilling your wish, but he can hardly do any more than he has already done,» you suggested.

Aragorn nodded in agreement. «Which is enough. Go home, friend, and let your heart be at peace.»

The chief bowed respectfully and departed hastily, leaving you behind in a company of the king and-

«Legolas of the Woodland realm,» you nodded to the elf who stood further from the entrance, almost completely covered by the shadows. «Our lands cannot remember the times when elves set their feet upon it. Truly has the new age come.»

Legolas spared you a long observant glance. He took in your gestures, unhurried and firm, your clothes, hanging loosely around your body, your piercing gaze and yet again those pointy ears. «If it were not for your words, I would have sworn you were one of Edhil. Who are you?»

«My name here is Morentir. I am the watchman in the north,» you replied and noticed a silent question arising. «North of Harad, that is. My ancestors came from beyond Harnen and brought their knowledge long ago. We have stayed in these lands ever since, grateful to them and to people, who accepted us.»

«There are more watchmen? What exactly is it that you keep your eyes on?» Aragorn inquired, stepping to the side.

«Harondor. From the shores to the mountains, we see everything. Every merchant taking the road, every nomad crossing the steppe, every shadow forming under the sun. We search for dangers and fortunes. We guide people away from ones and towards the others. A dozen and a half watchmen by the number of settlements across the land. That is who we are,» you said. «And that is why I have to be here tonight. If you wish to visit all of the villages in Harondor, you will need our guidance, my king.»

As you spoke to Aragorn, elaborating on the ways of the steppe, Legolas observed you silently. He watched how you unwrapped your scarf and laid it out on the floor showcasing the map embroidered on delicate fabric. He listened intently to your voice, savoring a thick layer of accent and arrhythmic pace, as you explained their further travel. He found something calming in the way candlelight casted shadows across your hands as they were gliding over the surface of the map.

When you got up and left the tent a good hour later, it was as if he woke up from a dream. Warmth and serenity of comfortable silence suddenly felt suffocating to Legolas. He followed the gust of fresh wind from the entrance and found himself under a vast carpet of stars. Piercing cold wind greeted him outside and a piercing gaze of your eyes. «Was there something amiss?»

Legolas considered your words for a long second before letting a faint smile touch his lips. Your question landed a precise strike to the feeling that bothered him. «Like a moon from the sky on a cloudy night.»

«I didn't know whom I had made this for, until tonight. But it seems you have come in time to relieve me of the doubts,» you murmured, passing him a folded garb from your bosom. Under close inspection it turned out to be a thin chemise, soft to the touch and intricately embroidered. Legolas' fingers followed the pattern on the front making out unfamiliar ornaments. «Wear it when your heart feels right.»

______________________________________________________________

Southern spring turned out to be even worse than the winter. By the end of Súlìmë [2] nights remained almost as cold, but during the day sun shone relentlessly, heating up Gondorians in their dark cloaks and armor like stones on the road. Many riders chose to take off their helmets and some piled their armor in the wagons following them. Since the time when they entered Harondor during late autumn the lands proved to be relatively clear of dangers that needed to be met with steel. Following the routes shown by watchmen, they wouldn't have met any of those, had Aragorn not chosen to teach a lesson to some runaway Haradrim bandits.

At the thought of that encounter Legolas involuntarily raised a hand to his chest. One of the throwing knives had come right below his hand as he was drawing the bow. That would make one unsightly scar if it wasn't for the shirt. He thought it was but a chance at first. Though the longer he spent observing the embroidery the more convinced he became that there was more to this thing than just beautiful craft.

«It is a woven shield. Harad magic,» Luintir, watchman from Urgon, confirmed when Legolas showed her the garb. «Well-worn one would cost one a good flock of sheep South from Harnen.»

The elf didn't care for sheep or gold, but knowing just how valuable the gift was took him by surprise. You who hadn't known him before gave him a thing of such power and worth. The knowledge only made his thoughts circle back to you more often.

In the beginning it was only natural to occasionally reflect on a sudden encounter and a gift. But since the middle of winter Legolas could barely name a few nights when his mind wouldn't be filled with thoughts of a woman that he only met once. It only got worse since they left Urgon and turned back North on Yestarë [3]. Weather changes didn't do enough to get his mind off you as the elf didn't suffer nearly as much as other riders.

And now as they finally were approaching Forambar Legolas felt a stinging wish to rush forward, get you away from the prying eyes and ask dozens of questions swarming in his head.

______________________________________________________________

Damon greeted the king and his men ceremoniously. Clearly the first wagons with goods from central Gondor had already reached the village in winter and the people were grateful for the help.

The stay wasn't supposed to be long this time either, so Legolas took the chance to roam along the path to the North of the village, where your hut stood just a little distanced from the rest. Small and sturdy it seemed in the dry last year's grass. He heard you before you showed from behind the building. Your steps rustled against the ground like water whispers against river banks.

«What brings you here, noble guest?» you asked him. The question rang clear through the cool air, but remained unanswered. Legolas appeared completely taken aback, his eyes wide, eyebrows drawn together, lips parted. There were changes in you, such that should not occur nor within a year, neither after a longer time. He clenched the shirt he held on his hands. You noticed it and reached out. «Was it your wish to ask about it?»

Legolas looked down at your hand, then back up at your face. «Your eyes are black.»

«As they should be. It would be a waste to be called Morentir and bear eyes of a different shade,» you replied amused by his direct statement. He only shook his head. That couldn't be true. In the name of Valar it couldn't be, he remembered clearly that your eyes were not black when you looked at him standing just outside of the king's tent.

«You Sindar are truly a mystery,» you noted, turning to the side. You could sense that this elf meant no harm, but his actions were rather strange. The turmoil in his heart was obvious to your eyes yet the reasons remained unclear. When you felt his fingers tracing the edge of your ear, you recoiled unconsciously. «By what custom would you do that?!»

Legolas' expression filled with painful confusion. «My eyes betray me... I could swear... I mistook you for one of our kind when I've seen your ears. Shaped as beech leaves were they.»

«People don't tend to have such ears,» you objected, slightly annoyed. For some reason the graceful creature before your eyes irritated you like an insect.

«I remember it clearly as day. This chemise reminded me with every touch, I wouldn't forget even if I wished to... So different you were that night. Same voice, same woman, yet so much changed.» The more he looked at you the more distinctions he could see, some subtle, others obvious. «How could that be?»

You sighed, feeling his words weighing heavily on your mind. «Go back, guest.»

Your voice struck him as a slap across the face. «Does your gift have no meaning? I learned of its value, I thought of it daily, but it holds no importance to you?»

«I do not recognize you and neither do I care,» you retorted and repeated firmly. «Go back.»

Legolas stood frozen as if a blade and not your words pierced through him. You watched something crumble inside him so loudly that it was visible in his striking blue eyes. It was so clear that you had to turn away for it to not consume you as well. For the first time in many years you cursed your role as a watchman when sensations of elf's struggle washed over you. Being able to see and hear all that happened many miles away from Forambar had never been as painful. «Go back,» you repeated once more before hiding away from him behind the door.

______________________________________________________________

By the middle of Víressë [4] Legolas crossed the Old Forest Road and entered the gentle shade of the Great Greenwood. Before long he took notice of a squirrel following in the same direction as him and fished out a few nuts for it from a bag. As his fingers grazed the inner side of the bag he noticed a different sort of texture. Upon further inspection that turned out to be sheets of paper folded multiple times.

Legolas pulled out the whole pile and looked at the outermost page first. It was filled with messy writing, black ink letters scattered across the surface. It took him a few whole moments before he managed to make sense of the words.

«Skies be good your mind will find peace by the time this reaches you for I must confess,» then followed a blot size of a fat bug and more erratic writing, «the truth. Let it be just the truth.»

«I am Morentir, one of the watchmen in the north. That means more than standing on guard somewhere high as people do in other lands. We watch over the entire Harondor with three dozen eyes. That is more than a living man can do. But when our ancestors came from the South, they brought knowledge with them. Spells that allow us to see and hear more than the best hunters can. Magic that makes us see whatever the others witness as clearly as if their eyes belong to us.»

There was a wide gap before the next paragraph just like a heavy sigh.

«This power has... a price. A cost that must be paid. Our hair is short, but even shorter is our memory. We live to guard and guide our people, but we don't live the lives of people. We forget easily and willingly, each day starting anew. We remember the lands and names, spells and runes, but none of us can say for sure what they look like. Sometimes we wake up with a different face, but we're unable to notice the difference.

That must have been what scared you then. Forgive me for that.

And truly did I not recognize you, Legolas. For that I do not seek your forgiveness. I only ask you to read the other page if your soul stirs from the memory or burn it if your heart is at peace.»

Legolas switched his attention to the other sheet without giving it a second thought. His eyes got used to the handwriting already and he easily picked out the words this time. The page seemed to be torn from a journal.

«The day was calm. The north wind brought good omens and guests. The king, Elessar of house Telcontar, who claimed our lands back from Harad and Umbar. He came with only a few of his men. And brought along a friend from afar. An elf. Long has it been, since we heard of elves, even longer since any of us had seen one of them. Legolas is his name. Son of the high king from the Woodland realm. He found the path to Forambar that our people use, that is worthy of respect. And the land liked him more than even some of our children. Truly do elves have their way with nature.

He stands tall and proud, he walks weightlessly and swiftly, he speaks eloquently but rarely. Everything in him is hardly a creation of the ground, but rather that of night air or flourishing forests. I take it that others notice but a half of what my eyes catch though. Therefore I should say more...

Long is his hair and light like the rising sun. The wind plays with it like with the most expensive of silks. His skin is fair, so unlike our people here. But he doesn't seem pale, rather the opposite – life and will is strong in him, so much is evident. His eyes are so blue that the sky seemed embarrassed for the rest of the evening, blushing with sunset... And I blushed with it when his eyes left mine.

The woven shield is asking to be gifted. I can feel the stirring of its power beneath the fabrics. Out of all possible outcomes that one is hardly predictable. But the omens are good. The elf deserves the Gift, and my soul would be free to roam the land further this way.»

There was another gap, wide like a whole paragraph. Next line began with a blot, then a few words were crossed out, another blot and finally something decipherable.

«Good be the skies. What did they send him here for? The Gift is his. I gave it away, the one I made. So easily like it was but the first of many promises.» Something crossed out again. «The omens were good. So said all of us. But it pains me to think that the path may not take him back to Forambar. He took the Gift, nothing more. He doesn't know of our customs, he doesn't seek for our ways, he doesn't belong despite the way grass catches on his boots.» More crossed out. «I will read the spell before the new moon comes. I can hardly find peace of mind if his shadow overtakes mine so easily. He may take the Gift, but not me. My watch is not over yet.»

The words by the edge were crossed out poorly, and Legolas could read them through the thin strokes of ink. «Why would his eyes be so blue? Good be the winds I forget them soon.»

______________________________________________________________ 1 – quenyan equivalent to November. Here and further I refer to months from the King's Reckoning 2 – March 3 – first day of the year, approximately spring equinox 4 – April

[juuuulez]

Hi, Jules! I really really LOVE your Capulet series! I was wondering if you could do a little imagine regarding the reader's identity as a Saviour, and the Alexandrian people being against it. Carl being Carl comforts the said reader.

Sidenote, words of affirmation>the rest of the love languages

info: Carl Grimes x Saviour! Reader, short and sweet, Carl is a cutie, reader is Negan’s daughter.

summary: When it seems everyone is against you, your boyfriend Carl is there to help.

YESSS thank you i hope to be everyone’s #1 writer for saviour reader because i LOOVVE this concept

It had been a rough week.

This whole war-thing was getting a little tiring. Of course, you loved the Saviours, and were grateful to be trusted with responsibility over the group. But some days, it got a little much, until everything started bubbling up and suddenly you’d do something stupid.

Today, that stupid had come in the form of an argument with Dwight. Both of you were stubborn, so it just built and built, until you snapped. You’d threatened him, directly, with the iron once more. It had worked, at the time, but you copped quite the scolding from your father, Negan, about empty threats.

Lack of follow-up made people perceive you as weak, therefore you couldn’t just hand out threats without any intention, no matter how irritating the argument. It wasn’t worth loosing the respect of your followers.

Which, you understood, of course. But then again, you were just a teenager. Sometimes teenagers were stupid, and had a tendency to run their mouths. Yet, you couldn’t be granted this privilege. No, you had to be a good leader, always. There wasn’t any room for errors.

It all came crumbling down in Alexandria, where you’d accompanied a small handful of Saviours to get a specific list of supplies.

Recently, Negan had acquired a new wife, which you chose not to comment on. After all, you didn’t necessarily agree with the tactic, and still held a soft-spot for Lucille. Therefore, you said nothing.

But, you were in need of some new furniture. Half of the supplies had already been acquired from Hilltop, and now you led the team to collect whatever was left from Alexandria.

Your temper was still simmering, quickly becoming exasperated with the slightly snide remarks from those you had to talk to. As usual, they let you through the gates, no longer protesting when you came to retrieve supplies.

But you still knew how much everyone resented you. It was obvious in the way they suddenly became cautious, or, began whispering once more the second you walked past. It was all just getting a bit much.

Thankfully, your boyfriend was like a breath of fresh air.

Figuring the Saviours could handle themselves, you retreated further through the town to find Carl, who was currently watching Judith. The toddler in question laid across a plaid picnic blanket in the grass, messily colouring with some crayons. It made you smile.

As usual, you were quick to sink into Carl’s arms, pleased with the way they fit around you perfectly. “Hey, baby.” He’d mumble into your hair, inhaling the familiar scent of somebody he loved.

“Rough day?” He would ask, immediately, sensing that something was off simply by the prolonged hug. You’d simply nod, head pressed against the bare skin of his neck, needing the contact to last a little longer in order to forget about everything.

A small moment of peace came easily, for you settled down next to Judith, watching her colour. Carl rested against your side, an arm still draped over you, similarly enjoying the moment you shared with his sister.

It was touching, knowing that despite everything, despite who you were, you held respect and admiration for his family. The people important to him. Maybe it was a soft spot, children, or maybe you just genuinely wished to indulge in this part of Carl’s life.

Unfortunately, it didn’t last too long.

Moments later, and Rick had returned, a watchful eye immediately cast on you three.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” He asked, suspicion laced in his tone. “Like, making sure your men don’t overstay their welcome? I expect them gone. Soon.”

Because that’s what you are. A leader, an extension of your father. You have a responsibility here.

“Yeah, yeah.. I’ll get onto it.” You agree, brows furrowed in an unconscious look of discontent. After all, God forbid you have a moment of relaxation.

To add salt to the wound, Rick decides to take Judith, too. The girl quietly fussed over leaving the crayons behind, but otherwise goes without too much complaint. Leaving behind you, and Carl. Oh, and a sour taste in your mouth.

You must have been visibly glaring, as within seconds, Carl’s touch has returned. His hand gently runs down the expanse of your back, fingertips lightly scratching over the material of your shirt.

“He’ll come around. I’ll make sure.” Carl claims, a certain amount of certainty in his voice. The declaration catches your attention, looking back at your boyfriend with furrowed brows.

You sigh, “I can hardly imagine Rick warming up to me.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean he gets to treat you like—“

“Like a criminal?” You cut him off, giving Carl a pointed look, one that conveys how this whole situation has made you feel. It’s enough that being a Saviour is so demanding, but now you’re not even permitted the slightest amount of downtime.

Carl leans down, peppering your shoulder with little kisses. Its so, so sweet, how he’s trying to make you feel better. “Maybe. But I love you, so he’ll realise that eventually, you aren’t going anywhere.”

The sentiment causes you to finally smile, tilting your head to look at Carl. “You love me?”

“Of course,” He confirms, arms wrapped snugly around your waist, nose still nudging at the skin of your neck, “What’s not to love?”

Just like that, nothing else matters. You’re more than happy right there, cuddling up with Carl, laying in the sun. The Saviours are left to their own devices, some of them making the trip back home early, as you spend the rest of the afternoon letting your boyfriend tell you everything that he loves about you.

[sunkissedscribbles]

Prejudiced - Chapter Twelve

this is only a part of the series, the previous and next chapters can be found here 

A/N: this one's extremely short but it's sweet and also, there's a lot of tension coming from cass' unspoken feelings, but this one's definitely some well-earned fluff for the characters

WORD COUNT: 883

TW: cursing, mentions of sex

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dividers by @chachachannah

"So Ki's still mad at us?" Mattheo asks over his Butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks.

Setting my mug of hot chocolate back down I shake my head, "At Berkshire. At you- well, she said she'd consider forgiving you sooner after the ball. And, I don't think she'd be that mad at Theo. Anyway, where's he?"

"Theo? Sleeping," Mattheo shrugs and I can't help but steal a glance at the clock on the wall and then at the watch on my left wrist. It's 1 pm. "Ki?" he continues.

"Sleeping," I answer with a faint smirk tugging at the corners of my lips. These two...

Matt seems to be thinking about something at that for a few seconds, his lips mirroring my smirk "...Don't you think they...?'"

"Yeah... I think they have," I chuckle and shake my head before looking out the window. It's all white outside hence the Christmas period, the main street's decorated, all the houses and shops have a door decoration, like a wreath or some mistletoe hung up, and there are lights in the windows.

"What's up with Berkshire?" I ask with a sour taste on my tongue – I don't think I've ever referred to Enzo using his surname only. Mattheo crunches his nose at that a bit, barely noticeably.

"You still not made up?" I shake my head at that, and he continues. "Hasn't he tried to apologize?"

"He has. But... the wound's still a bit too fresh, you know," I lift my mug to my lips.

"Then how come you've forgiven me already," he shakes his head with a small, confused smirk.

"Well, for starters, you haven't tried to fuck me. And... it's kinda different with you."

He raises his brows and doesn't even have to ask what I mean by that – I continue as the silent question is hanging in the air, "It's like... you just get me in a way no one else does."

"Not even Ki?" he frowns.

I shake my head, "No, not even her. She gets me differently, you know. She's a lot more different from me, and your personality itself is so much closer to mine. Or I might just be delusional and imagine that connection-"

"You're not delusional. I get it."

I smile softly and nod, taking another sip from my hot chocolate. It's so weird – this familiarity with Mattheo. There are just people whose presence fog my mind and blur my vision, as if it was a coping mechanism to avoid letting them in and getting hurt. But Mattheo? He makes all my walls come crumbling down and only clears my vision. To hell with him. He's gonna hurt me so bad one day if I don't regulate myself in front of him. Shouldn't I need more barriers for those dark brown eyes not to see right into my soul?

For the majority of the week after our outing to Hogsmeade with Mattheo on the 27th, I don't seem to be able to think about anything else than minor things like how our outfits matched accidentally, how nice he smelled when he got a little too close to me, how he just... gets me so well. I have no idea what's happening inside my head but I'd really like for it to stop because it's getting on my nerves. And on Kiara's.

"My baby has grown up," Ki exclaims, pretending to be shedding a tear in mock sensitisation as she's sitting on a chair in the kitchen while I'm baking cookies. "Cass's in love."

I roll my eyes with a grunt at that and even the thought makes my stomach do weird, uncomfortable flips. "Am not."

"Are too. You're literally baking for him."

"'Cause it's his birthday!"

"And you made him a bloody mixtape too. Wait- what's this?" she sniffs deep into the air while coming closer to eat all taste the cookie dough. She then pulls her lips into a big grin after smelling my hair like a damned moron. "I smell- love. And sex."

"Looks like your scent's too strong it's overriding mine," I retort while laying the cinnamon and chocolate chip cookies on the baking tray.

She snickers and shakes her head, "Now, you'd be right on the latter but my one and only love is off to California shagging Pamela Anderson."

I hum, shaking my head, turning around to face the oven, "Now you're just avoiding the topic and changing it to your drummer–"

"He could put his drumstick in me, I wouldn't mind," she shrugs nonchalantly while cleaning the bowl I made the dough in.

"–But you can't dodge it forever, Ki."

She rolls her eyes before grinning at me, "We'll talk about it again the day you finally admit you've fallen for pretty boy."

I hum and roll my eyes as I put the cookies into the oven.

"What about the kisses? You've talked about those?" she continues pushing the issue and I mutter something incoherent.

"Said he always has the urge to kiss someone when he's high," I answer, trying to seem nonchalant about it, even though I have no idea why my heart started beating faster.

"But you–"

"Maybe I like kissing people when I'm high too," I say almost defiantly and she raises her brows knowingly, but doesn't comment on it.

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